Maybe This is Danger
by Orlha Chloe
Summary: Two years after the red eye flight, Lisa should be enjoying her life. She's engaged to the perfect man, and has what seems like a perfect life. But she feels like something is missing, something she can't explain. When a new job brings Jackson back into her life, he gives her the rush she's been missing and Lisa is forced to decide whether the safe life is right for her.
1. Prologue

Jackson sat at the kitchen bar with his coffee, yawning widely as he opened the newspaper. He was out of ideas. He had been attempting to plan an assassination for Bradford Allen Wellmont, Jr., the governor of Florida, but every idea that he and his colleagues came up with had fallen flat. The man was careful- some might say paranoid. Jackson would say irritating, to put it mildly.

He lit a cigarette and tossed aside the lighter in annoyance, listening to the plastic skip across the wooden surface before clattering to the tile floor. He hated when he couldn't figure out the next step. He knew that before long, this annoyance would turn into conviction that would drive him to think of a better plan, _l'idée suprême_.

Jackson skimmed through the headlines, but couldn't focus. Blah blah police did this, yadda yadda the people of New York are furious about [insert the issue _du jour_], such-and-such company is going bankrupt, Company A bought out Company B. _Tedious._

Jackson didn't get excited about things anymore. It was always the same shit, different day. Some celeb did something, a nameless huge environmental disaster- they were all the same to him- hit somewhere, devastating the economy and killing _everyone_, or at least everyone in poverty, people feigned self-righteous indignation over the latest "travesty"...it was all so predictable and downright dull.

Even his job didn't give him a rush anymore. Go here, kill this person or that group of people, overthrow a generic regime, maybe steal some shit while you're there...it was nothing new.

And still, Jackson read on. He never knew when some story, some little piece of information, might spark new inspiration.

Wellmont, Jr.'s so-called paranoia was anything but, and Jackson knew it. He had good reason to worry that his life was in danger. Jackson couldn't be bothered to really _care_, but the man was well-versed in corruption, murder, extortion, and all manner of underhanded tactics to achieve his goals. He was plenty hated, but now that he was thought of as a favorite candidate for the next presidential election, someone with plenty of money but no personal backbone had decided that it was time to end the governor's "illustrious" career.

Jackson groaned out loud, as he released the cigarette smoke from his lungs. Society pages. If there was a more useless topic of discussion, he hadn't found it. He widened his eyes, forcing his focus to remain on the stories, and took a drink from his coffee.

His gaze fell on a familiar face, a face that he hadn't seen in years, and Jackson felt an unfamiliar rush. His heart beat more rapidly, and the air was sucked from his lungs as he stared into _those _eyes. He quickly retrieved the cigarette that had fallen from his now-parted lips to keep the newspaper from lighting on fire, and quickly collected his wits again.

_Leese._Even in the sub-par quality of the black and white photo, Jackson could see the smokey green eyes, the auburn hair tinted with flecks of gold, and that smooth alabaster skin. For a brief instant, he could even smell her seductive perfume and feel the heat of her presence.

Jackson took a bigger drink of coffee, vaguely wishing that it was something stronger. So, little Lisa Reisert had gotten herself engaged. And not to just anyone- to Bradford Allen Wellmont, III, the _wunderkind _CEO of Crane Capital, the ruthless, attractive and disgustingly rich heir to the Wellmont fortune. And most importantly to Jackson, the son of the governor of Florida. _Well fucking done, Leese._

On the surface, it was a beautiful story. The one-time anti-terrorist celebrity who had saved the life of Charles Keefe- not that it mattered anymore, because he hadn't lived much longer- finding love with one of the most eligible bachelors of New York, if not the country. Hell, maybe the world. But the longer Jackson stared at the photo, the stronger his sixth sense pounded in his brain.

He had seen Lisa smile before, and it, like most things about her, was stunning. This smile was heart melting- or would have been if he cared about such things- but it didn't reach her eyes. There wasn't that certain _je ne sais quoi_, that playful little sparkle. In fact, as far as he could see, her eyes were rather dead.

A more ignorant person might have dismissed it as Lisa not being comfortable in front of the camera, or maybe having a bad day when the engagement photo was taken, but Jackson knew better. He had seen _that _smile, too. It was the smile Lisa gave her customers, gave the woman at the airport to whom she had gifted that Dr. Phil book. It was her people-pleaser smile.

Smiles might lie, but eyes don't. Lisa wasn't happy.

Jackson sat back in his chair, taking a long drag of his cigarette. His lips curled in a satisfied smile, and if he weren't so jaded, he might actually get excited. Unhappy people were incredibly useful. They could be turned with a little ingenuity and cunning. He had finally found his _idée suprême_.

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**To those of you reading Blood and Roses- this story is going in a much different direction. It's going to explore the darker sides of both Jackson ****_and _****Lisa- she isn't going to be the good girl this time around. It's inspired by the song "Tear You Apart" by She Wants Revenge- I highly recommend it. The story will become "M" very quickly- probably in the next chapter.**

**Any feedback is appreciated!**


	2. Disillusionment

**From this point, I don't plan _any _chapters in Jackson's POV. It's all Lisa from here on out, which is super fun because we really won't know Jackson's motivations. :)**

**Sending out _tons _of love to my reviewers- it's always scary to start a new story. :D Just like in Blood and Roses, I'm going to be responding to my reviewers, but since there's not a lot happening yet, there's not much to say except _thank you thank you thank you _to CharliRenee123, Pirate Gyrl, Perhaps-A-Star, Miss Frangipani, BacktotheFuture1985, Funnyl0ve, and MsRainbowbrite.**

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**Chapter 1: Disillusionment**

Lisa eyed herself in the full-length mirror, glancing back over her shoulder to appraise the outfit. It was gorgeous, of course. Knee-length, high-waist pencil skirt and a lace puff-sleeve blouse, in black amethyst. Easily over a thousand dollars, but since when did that matter?

Lisa was fairly sure that she already had an identical outfit, but she couldn't be bothered to mentally rifle through her closet. Brad didn't really care how much money she spent, and it was something to do. She sometimes thought that she was turning into the Charlie Babbit of designer labels. She had spent so much time in stores that she was able to tell who someone was wearing just by looking at him or her. Lisa sipped her complimentary champagne, turning her attention from that sad thought to what shoes she needed to complete the ensemble.

It was all so important, apparently. If one element of her outfit was out of place, she might as well walk the streets naked. Maybe a black stiletto ankle boot...Louboutin would work.

Lisa turned to face her reflection head-on, forcing a smile when she noticed the dour expression that had become all too common. She set down the flute and began to peel off her outfit. She had been seeing that same gloomy little pout too often lately.

It was the wedding- it had to be. It was the final element of this dream she had been living in for the past few years. After all, what would someone like Brad want with a plain woman like her? She wasn't particularly educated or stunningly gorgeous. There were thousands of women that had more appeal. And she was damaged.

She had heard of dreams that felt like they lasted forever. Maybe this was one of them. She sometimes felt like she would wake up in her apartment, alone. It was just unreal. She had a perfect life with a perfect fiancé...such a damn cliché. Poor little girl who had everything and still wasn't satisfied.

She had no reason not to be happy, really. Brad was the nicest guy she had ever met. She knew that he could be a shark in bloody water when it came to the business world, but he had never been that way with her. He was sweet, considerate, and attentive. They had nights where he had to break off plans, of course, but he always made it up to her. Not with empty affections like flowers or chocolates- with real quality time.

Her friends used to constantly bring up how long it took him to propose- after all, they had been dating for two years already- but he had put it into such eloquent words. Usually, he saw what he wanted and took it, but he didn't want to _take_ her. And she had never felt that things were moving too slowly or too fast. What more could she ask for?

Lisa walked to the cashier, a shop assistant carrying her new items behind her, and handed over her credit card. She waited for the new purchases to be loaded into her car before driving away from the store. Brad had offered a new Mercedes and a driver, but for now, Lisa liked driving herself- she had accepted the Mercedes, of course- and he had respected that as well.

Yes, he had stood his ground when it came to Lisa having to quit her job, but once she had quit, she realized that she didn't particularly like it anyway. He had told her that he was old-fashioned, and didn't want her to have to work. Of course she didn't _have_ to- she could shop like this everyday for the rest of their lives and still hardly make a dent in his finances.

She was just bored. That was it- when he wasn't around, she didn't have much to do except shop and spend time with the other society ladies. She had felt like a sore thumb around those women for a while, but they had accepted her as one of them long ago. It was just monotonous sometimes. Yeah, that was the problem.

That had to be why she was having those dreams again. That was why when she closed her eyes, she saw those piercing blue eyes, that perfect shade of cerulean that had no business being found in the eyes of a cold-blooded killer. She felt those soft, seductively full lips barely grazing her ear and his silky voice that somehow worked its way through her veins to her very core.

Lisa had heard more times than she cared to count that the passing of time glosses past events, that absence makes the heart grow fonder, etc etc. Time hadn't just glossed the facts- it left her subconscious trapped in that airplane bathroom with the exquisite killer. The dreams started just as it had happened in reality, but in her fantasies, his lips grazed her jaw before finding hers. He sucked her bottom lip while she trembled, his hands grazed places that they had no business touching.

She succumbed to the seduction as his soft fingertips trailed up her inner thigh, and that was when she woke up in a feverish sweat, the room silent except for her sharp breaths and her heart pounding in her ears. That was when she realized that it was her own hand touching her, and thanked God that she was alone...usually. Sometimes Brad had been asleep next to her, but he thankfully had continued to sleep soundly, oblivious to his then-girlfriend's sickening desires.

Lisa was ashamed to admit that more often than not, she had continued to stroke herself, closing her eyes and trying to conjure up images of those chiseled cheekbones, soft chocolate hair, slender fingers, and mostly those eyes as she quickly brought herself cascading into a burning climax. It was her dirty little secret, the private passion that she didn't dare breathe a word of to anyone around her. She wouldn't even allow herself to say his name out loud, biting her lip to keep it caught in her throat.

But apparently the vivid dreams and downright embarrassing moments of weakness weren't enough, because fantasy was beginning to invade reality. There were moments when Lisa felt as though she were being watched, and she would catch a glimpse of those haunting eyes in the crowd. On her second look, they were gone.

Lisa knew that she was being ridiculous. The dreams had only started in the last month, and she had only been spotting _him_ for a week. It had been two years- why would he be following her now? She hadn't felt safe for months after the red eye flight, after she got word that he had mysteriously escaped from custody and left no trace behind except for a frightened woman checking dark corners in her apartment, afraid to step out on the street.

And at that time, her fantasies joining the mile high club with an assassin had been nonexistent. She had been _terrified_ that he was coming for her, and when she did dream about him, it was far more sinister and she rarely lived through it. But nothing had happened, and the whole thing eventually faded into a faint memory of a horrible experience tucked away in the recesses of her mind.

So why was she dreaming of him and seeing him now? And why was she seeing him in such an alluring context?

Engagement jitters. Those were normal, right? And she didn't have a whole lot of romantic experience to draw on, so why not manipulate that traumatic event into something more appealing? _That_ certainly didn't seem normal, but neither had the early hours of that morning.

The last sighting had been less than an hour ago. Lisa had almost dropped her crystal flute when she noticed a familiar profile inspecting a suit jacket less than thirty feet from her. She had never seen his face, but something in that confident posture and slim, elegant build had been familiar. She had been trying to work up the courage to approach the man when a salesgirl had caught her attention, bringing the dress Lisa had requested. When the brief exchange was over, the man had been nowhere to be seen.

Lisa shook her head sharply as she slammed on her brakes. She had almost run a red light. She found herself distracted too often for comfort. She didn't know how many times she had been on Skype or the phone with Brad and realized that she had no idea what he had just said. And it wasn't thoughts of _him_- it was usually nothing. Her brain had just been empty.

_Engagement jitters_. She knew that with more time, the intoxicating fantasies would fade away again, and she would be as happy as her situation deserved.

* * *

"Leese?" Lisa yanked her hand away from the rim of her wine glass, turning her attention to her best friend, Eve. She realized that the blonde had been trying to get her attention for a while, and shot her a guilty smile, not even bothering to remind her that she didn't like that nickname.

"Sorry," she replied sheepishly. "What's up?" Eve took a bite of her salad, visibly annoyed.

"I was asking when we're going to pick up your wedding dress," she repeated. "You told me last week that it had arrived, and I assume you still want me to come with you." Lisa sighed, taking a quick sip of her wine.

"Stalin's sending me a new 'wedding assistant'," she explained, referring to her future father-in-law. "He told Brad that he can't trust something this important to just anyone- he's sending me one of his 'people'." Lisa rubbed the back of her neck. She had a strong dislike for Brad's father. As far as she could see, he was an overbearing, pompous asshole. Part of the reason the relationship had gone as long as it had without a proposal was that Governor Wellmont had insisted that Lisa meet with his approval, and now that she apparently did, he was rushing them to go through with the wedding.

Wellmont was about to start his presidential campaign, and he wanted Lisa and Brad married in February, just in time for the primary elections. Lisa couldn't help but wonder what he had in plan for the general election- was she supposed to pop out a baby by then? Now Wellmont had decided that Lisa was too incompetent to plan a public-friendly wedding, even with the help of Brad's assistant, Kate.

Eve rolled her eyes, and Lisa couldn't agree more. She hated how Brad went along with whatever his dad said, but she had learned early on that in the bourgeoisie, disobeying your parents potentially had much more serious consequences- especially when your father is a millionaire many times over _and_ a governor.

"So what, he's sending this woman-"

"Man," Lisa interrupted, taking another sip of chardonnay.

"-man," Eve continued, "to make sure the dress is okay for you to wear?"

Lisa nodded. "The dress, the bridesmaid dresses, the flowers, the band- all of it," she replied coldly. "It has to look just so for the photos, after all...the perfectly planned "candid" shots of the happy day." She had already stressed out about the new development, and now it was just one more thing. At least planning the wedding had kept her somewhat busy- now it was tainted by having to submit everything for approval.

Eve _tsked_ sarcastically. "We sound bitter," she noted, taking another bite of her salad. Lisa poked at her food, remaining silent. She didn't have much of an appetite lately, which was fine with her- God forbid she gain weight before the wedding.

"No, it's fine," she replied, trying to sound confident while lying through her teeth. "I've never really had a dream wedding, anyway, so it's not a big deal." The truth was that Lisa had always had a fantasy wedding, but it was never on a budget like what she had access to, and definitely not Manhattan in the winter- they had originally planned for Paris, but of course Wellmont insisted it take place in America. She had always wanted something more low-key...a gorgeous spring day on a beach, wearing a simple dress with an orchid in her hair, and no shoes. It was cliché, but that's what she wanted.

Actually, almost everything about her life was a cliché. Her childhood was a typical suburban upbringing. She had started out as a part-time night receptionist in high school and over her ten years at the Lux Atlantic, worked her way up to a manager. Her rape had landed her a spot on a statistic sheet, and she had done the whole closed-off loner thing as a result. Typical. She had met a true Prince Charming- it was like something out of a fairy tale.

_He_ was the only abnormal part of her life. She wondered how many other people had knowingly met an assassin and lived to tell about it, let alone lived to tell about it because they had come out on top. For that one night, Lisa had felt like an equal, and at some points, even felt like she had some control. She had actually felt _formidable_. _He_ didn't treat her like she was weak by the time she was through with him. But that was two years ago, and she had gotten nowhere. Her life was much prettier than it used to be, but she still didn't feel like it was her own.

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**Happy Holidays! R&R!**


	3. Improvisation

**Thanks to all of those who read and reviewed! I know the chapters are short, but for now, I feel like it makes sense stylistically. Maybe they'll expand later, but maybe not. I changed my mind about staying away from Jackson's POV...I feel like the story won't work as well without some of his thoughts.**

**Alright, just a warning for this chapter (and the next few)- Lisa isn't supposed to be relatable right now. If she doesn't make sense to you, it's because generally something like suicidal thoughts aren't supposed to be understood except to the person thinking them. So yes, she's being over-dramatic and immature. It will take a little while for her to get back her Lisa-ness that we loved in the film, because she's reverted to her old self, but worse since it's a "relapse", if you will. She'll get stronger with time, so if you're not liking how whiny she's being, stick with it- yes, she's kind of OOC from where the film left off, but it's been two years since then. She won't stay like this, though- promise.**

**KnoKnayme- **Danke, darling!

**BW4eva-** He irks me too, and he's going to get much worse. He's definitely not a nice guy. As for Brad...we'll just have to see if he really is perfect. :P

**MademoiselleGF- **Here's the way I see it- she went into her little shell after her rape, and who's to say she can't do it again when surrounded by the same kinds of people? It's my belief that when people treat you with concern/sympathy, it's a lot easier to feel sorry for yourself. When people are always asking if you're okay, it's pretty easy to think that you're not. And don't worry- she's disappointed in herself too.

Eva's going to be in and out, and she should be a fun little character to play with. :)

Jackson most definitely gets off thinking of Lisa. And he's also disappointed in her, so you have that in common with both of them. Just _please _bear with me...she'll get better. And hell, I'm kind of disappointed in her too, although I do love Louboutins and would sell my kidney to get some. As for your last little comment, you convinced me that we need some Jackson POV, although he isn't exactly bleeding heart bubbles right now.

**PirateGyrl- **That review totally made my night. I had gotten stuck in the snow for half an hour on a back road in bumfuck Minnesota (one of the worst places to be), and when I finally got out and got to a gas station (yeah, I was totally almost out of gas too), I decided to check my email and literally laughed out loud at your idea. I wasn't planning on it, but I'm thinking that it _would _be pretty hilarious. I just have to figure out a way to make it work now.

**Angst and ugh:**

**Chapter 2: Improvisation**

Lisa wandered through her empty apartment, barely noticing the boxes stacked against the walls. It wouldn't be her apartment much longer- she was finally moving in with Brad. Actually, it would still be a few weeks before the big move- she didn't want to leave before her lease expired- but since she usually had nothing better to do, she found herself absently packing up her belongings.

Most of them wouldn't even go to the penthouse- Brad didn't need her furniture or her appliances, and he had plenty of decor. Compared to the gorgeous art he had, her possessions were tacky and gaudy. He had suggested that she could just throw most of it away, but Lisa insisted on donating it. _Someone_ could use her overstuffed suede couch and dark oak coffee table.

She wandered onto her balcony, sipping from her second- third?- glass of wine. She leaned on the railing, staring at the gorgeous city before her- bright lights as far as the eye could see, the sounds of traffic, and faint music coming from some nearby club. And she wasn't a part of it. She was in a silent, dimly lit apartment. The worst part was that she could only imagine what she was missing because she had never experienced it. She had never had the exciting life with the wild friends- only watched others.

She and her friends went out, and she went out with Brad often enough, but she just felt like she was missing some...something...that everyone else around her had a grasp on. It was like she was at a party that she hadn't really been invited to.

Brad was in Paris...or was it London? She couldn't remember anymore. He went all over the world, to places that she used to dream of being in her 'when I win the lottery' fantasies. Well now she had won it. Sometimes she went to those places with him, but when he was working, she was left alone again. And a city like Paris wasn't meant to be experienced alone.

Lisa laughed dryly. She was being so pathetically maudlin- too much wine. She thought back to the telephone conversation with her dad when she had excitedly broken the news of her engagement to him. He had been ecstatic, over the moon with joy. His happiness made her happy. Of course he had still worried about her after the flight, but since Brad came into her life, she had heard 'Are you alright?' fewer and fewer times...she didn't even remember the last time Joe had asked. He finally seemed satisfied that Lisa was indeed 'fine'.

Of course, she wasn't. And the most maddening thing was that she couldn't even to begin to explain why. At least before, she had had a reason. Now things were fucking fantastic.

No...they weren't. Lisa knew they weren't. Even if she could fool those around her, she couldn't convince herself anymore. She tipped back her head, swallowing the rest of her wine before letting the glass slip from her fingers. She didn't even flinch when she heard it shatter stories below her. She grimaced in disgust as it occurred to her that she actually felt jealous of the glass.

Lisa completely collapsed, dropping her weight on her forearms. She was finding it difficult to breathe, like she had dove too far into a pool and the surface was out of reach. She wanted out. She wanted to break off the wedding and just run away from whatever it was that was draining the life from her. She hated feeling like this- so pathetic, so lost. She prided herself on being able to fix problems, but what could she do when it was inherently _her _that was to blame?

And she hated herself for even letting it get this far. She couldn't just break it off now. If she did that, she would have to face Brad's pain, Wellmont's anger, her father's constant concern, and her mother's haranguing. She would have to deal with all the negativity from everyone around her- she doubted she could make any of them understand when she herself didn't.

She took a few steps back, short breaths of oxygen piercing her lungs. It was too overwhelming...the lights she had been staring at longingly were spinning around her, taunting her. Too much. Too fucking much.

Lisa grabbed a patio bench and slid it across the concrete toward the railing, wincing at the harsh sound of the metal legs grinding against the concrete. She had to get out. She couldn't handle the pressure anymore, always having to do the right thing, always having to make others around her happy. Brad would move on- she wasn't special enough for him to mourn over for very long. Her dad would be devastated, but...at least he could stop worrying about her and she wouldn't have to worry about pleasing him anymore. The very idea that her dad was just another burden just increased Lisa's nausea. What was wrong with her?

Lisa took a step onto the bench, surprised to find that her legs weren't shaking like she had expected. This actually felt right. She was heading in a self-appointed direction, even if that direction was the pavement. And the thrill of fear searing through her was almost an erotic thrill. Lisa took another step, tightly squeezing the railing. She tilted her head back, her eyes closing, and reveled in the sensation of the wind blowing through her hair, finally able to take a deep breath again.

She felt so free.

Lisa flinched as her reverie was rudely interrupted by a shrill whistle from below. She braced herself to regain her balance and snapped her focus to the sidewalk, trying to find the intruder.

Her heart stopped in her chest. _Him_. He wasn't a glimpse in a crowd or a mysterious profile. He was standing there, alone, and definitely wasn't a figment of her overactive imagination. Her heart came back to life, pounding away like it had after those damn dreams.

Lisa felt a jolt of excitement race through her body when he held up a hand, lazily curling his index and middle finger in a gesture for her to come down.

"But you might want to use the stairs," he clarified, a dark smile forming on his lips. Lisa quickly stepped back from the bench, out of sight. She hugged herself, breathing rapidly. What now? Should she call the cops and tell them that she had found him? She should, but...

Lisa quickly raced into her apartment, grabbing her purse and slipping on her heels. Oh, this was stupid. _But it beats having your brains pop out of your head like confetti_. And the knowledge that she shouldn't be going down there only made her move faster. It made her want it more, even if it was an insanely dangerous move on her part. And if he killed her...well, it all amounted to the same thing, did it? Same end, different means.

She hurried down the stairs, the words '_stop_' and '_go_' alternating in her head with each footfall. She finally reached front door and came face to face with _him_. Jackson. Her heart raced with fear as she approached him, trying not to let him see how stupidly excited she really was.

Jackson said nothing, stepping back toward a waiting car without breaking eye contact or losing that smile. Lisa stepped closer to him- it was as though she had lost control of her legs. She couldn't stop if she wanted to.

Jackson reached behind him and opened the back door of the gleaming black Cadillac, waiting for Lisa to climb in. He swiftly followed her into the enclosed space, and the driver pulled out into the street.

Lisa cleared her throat softly. Her mouth felt like cotton. What exactly does a person say in these situations? Hi? How have you been? Jackson glanced over at her, a teasing smirk on his face. Lisa felt both offended and thrilled. How could he not be worried about what she would do? Where did that confidence come from?

And how dare he look so damn delicious? He had gotten a haircut since she'd seen him last- the shorter hair suited him. She forced herself to look away to keep from looking like some obsessed creeper, but it was so difficult. Sitting there, with that black slim-fit John Varvatos button-up, those dark blue jeans- looked like D&G- and that deliberately unruly hair...she could feel the power radiating from him. It was as though he didn't give a shit about the world around him, but still managed to own it. She couldn't help but wonder what that was like.

Lisa dropped her head against the glass. _You're getting a little ridiculous, girl...get it together. Say something- let him know that he doesn't own **you**._

"I could have you arrested, you know," she reminded him, turning to face him again.

Jackson nodded, giving away no hint of concern. "And I could kill you right here," he responded as he leaned closer to her. It was too close for comfort, but Lisa didn't pull away. She didn't want to be comfortable.

"But you won't," she replied firmly. It wasn't a question- somehow she knew that he was there for other reasons.

Jackson nodded once. "And neither will you." Lisa didn't respond, which suited him just fine. He leaned back, making brief eye contact with his associate in the rearview mirror. He hadn't meant for this to happen- Lisa was _not_ supposed to be in his car. In fact, he could have very well blown his plan before he had really started. They were just supposed to be watching her, becoming familiar with her routine.

But when he saw her out on that balcony, he had been compelled to get her attention. At first, when he realized what she was doing, he felt an overwhelming disgust that had almost decided to call off the entire thing- she was too far gone, too pathetic. It was one thing to be unhappy, but to throw yourself off a balcony? It was beyond senseless.

But a few minutes had gone by, and Jackson realized that Lisa had no intention of jumping, even if she didn't know it. She was just enjoying the adrenaline rush of thinking that she would. And although he could tell that she was unhappy- he had no idea how the people around her _didn't_, really- he hadn't seen any real motivation behind her sadness. How the fiery woman he had seen break from her shell two years ago ended up right back in another cage of people-pleasing and pretending to be fine was a complete mystery to him.

Jackson watched the other woman with amusement. She obviously couldn't decide if she wanted to be there or not, but he knew that just the fact that she was questioning such things meant that he hadn't been wrong about her. He had seen something that had reminded him of himself, but a little more dangerous. A fire started out of necessity instead of rationality- after all, she had been trying to save the lives of Keefe and his family, her dad, and herself. He had long wondered if that spirit would go right back where it came from when it wasn't needed, and it looked like he had been right about that as well.

If Jackson had learned anything from his last encounter with Lisa, it was that she had a penchant for ruining his plans. With her, it was improvisation around a barebone strategy. So while this early encounter was definitely not something he had planned, it was what he had to do. After all, it didn't exactly work well for him if Lisa became just another smear on the concrete. He needed that fire that she had buried deep inside her again, and if he had to drag it out himself, he would.

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**Just to let you guys know, the story _will _be rated M by the next chapter.**


	4. Power Struggle

**Not much to say except as always, thank you to my wonderful readers!**

**BW4eva- **Yep. It's almost offensive sometimes. :D

**PirateGyrl- **"She seems in such a deep depression that she doesn't realize she's in." _Exactly_. You hit the nail on the head with that one. It's hard to write sometimes because unless someone has felt that kind of depression, it's hard to understand. To me, it's the worst kind- when you're upset and just don't know why. And I would agree 100% that it was a bit crazy (understatement) to jump in the car with him. But she's not exactly rational now...so it goes.

**MademoiselleGF- **Yep. His POV will sort of be in and out in little moments. I doubt I'll have a whole chapter from his perspective. And you're right- this one will _definitely _be more about Lisa's inner journey. I'll probably limit the use of OCs in this one (although I am super tempted to bring Ben in for at least a cameo appearance lol).

**KnoKnayme- **And more you are receiving! :D Thanks for the support, sweetie.

**Well...this chapter is easily the most explicit I've ever written, so I hope it goes over alright. Enjoy.**

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**Chapter 3: Power Struggle**

Lisa bobbed slightly on her toes as the elevator ascended. She didn't look at the man next to her, but she could sense his presence all the same. Neither said a word, and she found that she liked it. No questions, no answers. No meaningless small talk, because neither of them felt like pretending that they particularly cared what the other had been up to.

It was all about the now. How long had it been since she had lived for the present instead of worrying about the future or past?

Lisa felt a jolt of lightning through her body when the back of her hand brushed his. Their first physical contact in two years, and he might as well have shoved her against the elevator wall. Lisa shuddered lightly when Jackson's hand pressed against her lower back as the elevator came to a stop. He escorted her down the hallway, and Lisa's adrenaline pumped harder with each step.

This was insane. No, not _just_ insane. It was downright wrong. She had no illusions about what was about to happen. If she was right, she would be an adulteress after tonight. And he wasn't just any man- he had tried to kill her father, Keefe, Keefe's family, and her- although whether or not he intended to kill her was debatable. She should have cared, but she should have been feeling many things that she just wasn't. She just wanted that thrill, that excitement. She wanted her dreams to be real instead of a pathetic girl touching herself alone in her room. To hell with the consequences.

Somehow, Jackson seemed to know this. Either that, or he didn't really care how she felt. She didn't know which was more likely. It wasn't lost on her that he was being quite reckless as well- was this where he lived? If he had taken her straight from her apartment to his own place...she could destroy him too. The knowledge gave her her own little rush of power. She was on arguably equal ground with _Jackson_ of all people.

Jackson fished through his jeans pocket with his free hand and unlocked the front door to his condo. Lisa allowed herself to be led into the room, shivering slightly when she felt Jackson move his hands to her shoulders and slide off her cardigan, his warm fingers softly grazing her bare skin. He wasn't wasting any time. It was oddly refreshing- no offer of a drink, no tour.

She turned to face him and smiled slightly. She wasn't going to let him have all the fun.

Lisa reached up and gripped Jackson's hair tightly, pulling his head down to press her lips to his. Their mouths collided violently. It was not sensual or beautiful- it was ambrosiac. It was better than any fantasy she could have conjured up. His hands slid from her arms to the V on her silk tank top, and Lisa heard fabric tearing as the delicate garment was ripped open. The fact the shirt had cost over three hundred dollars brought a smile to Lisa's face as she continued kissing Jackson. She revelled in the destruction of the excess.

She sucked his bottom lip, nipping at the soft flesh as her free hand slid down his chest. She quickly unbuttoned the shirt- it was too sexy on him to destroy- but before she could pull it off entirely, Jackson slid his hands under her thighs and swept her off her feet, heading for the bedroom.

Lisa kissed along his jaw as he carried her, intoxicated by the fragrance of his cologne. He wasn't a large guy, but he held her as though she weighed nothing- it was thrilling. He could throw her against the wall at any point, snap her neck...anything he wanted.

She lost her grip on his neck when he threw her on the bed rather ungracefully, pulling off her skirt and tossing it aside. As he held himself over her, putting his weight on his arm near her head, Lisa trailed her fingers down his warm chest, tugging at his belt.

Jackson shook his head, grabbing her hand and pulling it high over her head. He braced himself with his thighs as he grabbed the other hand, pinning both to the mattress by her wrists.

"Patience," he murmured against her neck, his voice as low and smooth as she remembered. In fact, her dreams didn't do it justice. She didn't want to be patient. She wanted him now. All of him, deep inside her.

Lisa pulled against Jackson's grip as he trailed his fingers down her neck, past her collarbone and down to the valley between her breasts. He was hardly doing anything, and it was driving her crazy. She squirmed when she felt his tongue slide down to where his fingers had just been. They were wearing too much clothing for her tastes.

She glanced down, making eye contact with Jackson as he stared up at her. He seemed to read her mind and released her wrists, gripping the lace bra with both hands and tearing it open with a quick snap. _Another $220._

Lisa gasped sharply when Jackson began to suck her nipple. He nipped quickly with his teeth, sending a flickering pain into her chest. She tried to bury her fingers in his hair, but he was prepared and caught her wrists again without even looking up. Lisa let out a feral growl- she wanted to touch him.

Jackson glanced up again as he pinned her again, a knowing glint in his eyes. He knew exactly what he was doing to her- that asshole. But she saw the glimmer of darkness in his eyes, and knew that she wasn't the only one rapidly losing their patience.

Normally, she would expect some kind of teasing words, like...she didn't even know what...but somehow, his silence just made it worse. It was as though he was a man on a mission and couldn't even be bothered to distract himself by wasting words, and it was infuriatingly sexy.

Jackson lowered his hand, sliding it tauntingly up her thigh, and Lisa's body jerked involuntarily when he pressed two fingers tightly against her clit. The pressure of his touch mixed with the texture of her lace panties was an unexpectedly tantalizing combination, and Lisa bucked again when he curled his fingers, rocking his knuckles against the sensitive spot.

Lisa bent her knees and parted her thighs, giving him better access. He was moving too slowly. She fought against his grip as Jackson slid one finger under the delicate fabric, massaging her with just the tip. It was agonizing, made obvious by the slick finger that Jackson slid from her clit and to her mouth, slipping it between her lips.

Lisa responded by sucking the finger, finding the taste of herself on his skin strangely delicious. She couldn't hide a grin wickedly when she saw that her action had the added benefit of breaking Jackson's confidence. She saw a flash of raw lust in his eyes, and curled her tongue around his finger, licking every drop of the innocently arousing fluid, never breaking eye contact with the assassin.

Jackson groaned softly, leaning forward to intertwine their tongues, his hand cupping her breast. Lisa felt a small burst of pride- she had thrown him off his game, and she knew it. She arched her back, pressing her breasts to his chest, revelling in the sensation of their warm skin kissing together.

He firmly pushed her down to the bed again, releasing her hands as he lowered himself down her body, trailing his lips down to her panties. His teeth grazed her hip before he took the delicate strap in his mouth and tugged sharply, snapping it. Lisa sat up, sliding her hands under his shirt and over his shoulder blades.

Jackson snarled and grabbed her hands yet again, trapping them on either side of her hips. Lisa sank back again as Jackson's head slipped between her thighs. A sharp suck on her clit caused her to buck her hips yet again. She closed her eyes tightly, surrendering to the waves of pleasure his lips and tongue provoked.

Her lips curled into an impish grin as she slid her feet onto Jackson's back, digging her heels into his shoulders. He might not let her touch him, but he had made a stupid mistake...he hadn't given her time to take off her shoes.

Sure enough, Jackson quickly pulled back with a sharp glare, his hands leaving hers to pull off her heels. Lisa seized this opportunity to grab his hair and pull hard, forcing him back up to meet her eyes. She lifted her head, pressing their lips together, snaking her tongue into his mouth with desperation. His teasing was overwhelming- she ached to feel him. She tugged at his belt again as she gripped his hips with her thighs, silently conveying that they were going to play by _her_ rules now.

Jackson pulled away from the kiss, shooting her a devilish grin that suggested that he was impressed before escaping her grasp and getting to his feet. Lisa propped herself on her elbows, watch him walk toward his nightstand and pull out a box of condoms.

"How responsible of you," she remarked in amusement as he pulled out an individual condom and ripped open the wrapper with his teeth before tossing the box back into the drawer. She had been on birth control for years, so she wasn't really that worried, but it was interesting to see that even Jackson's recklessness had its limits.

"Yeah, I'm a boy scout," he replied dryly. Lisa chuckled and lunged for him, taking the condom from his hand. He looked down at her and nodded before pulling off his shoes, socks, jeans, and briefs. Lisa got to her knees and crept forward, firmly unrolling the condom over his hard-on, her fingers trembling.

Jackson let out another groan as she allowed her fingers to linger, stroking him as she pulled away. He looked so scintillatingly beautiful that Lisa stroked up the base of his cock again, letting the sounds of his moans vibrate in her ears. Listening to the sounds he made was almost as exciting as his hands on her.

She felt an overwhelming urge to rip the condom off of him and take him in her mouth, to really make him squirm. It was empowering, having this killer at her mercy. But it appeared as though Jackson couldn't take torture nearly as well as he could inflict it, and he pulled her away from him, yanking her up the mattress by her wrists.

He climbed over her, dropping down for another burning kiss. Lisa couldn't get enough of his lips on hers. She shifted underneath him, spreading her thighs wide. Without breaking the kiss, Jackson lowered himself and arched into her without hesitation.

Lisa tensed, a sharp scream exiting her lips, muffled by Jackson's mouth. It hurt, but it was an exquisite pain. She wrapped her legs around him, pulling deeper into her. Jackson groaned loudly, biting her collarbone. It would leave a mark, but it was too late to care. She was already flawed.

Jackson's hands gripped her hips tightly, lifting her to give himself a better angle. Lisa tightened her hold on him so he could brace himself on the mattress. As he thrust into her, she arched her back, her eyes squeezing shut. Her voice rang out, unbridled. No one who mattered could hear her. It was just Jackson, and she doubted that he was bothered by such things.

Her waves of uncontrollable, vulgar moans continued as Jackson increased his pace, seemingly spurred on by the obscene sounds coming from her throat. He dropped his weight onto her, burying his face in her neck as he pumped harder, matching her with muffled groans of his own. Lisa dug her fingers into the flexing muscles of his shoulders, tearing at the hot flesh under his shirt. She wanted to leave a mark on him again.

She heard his name escape her lips, and Jackson tensed against her. He hooked his arms under her back and curled his fingers around her shoulders, shoving into her with reckless abandon. He nipped sharply on her earlobe.

"Look at me," she heard him whisper harshly, his voice ragged. Lisa obeyed, opening her eyes to stare into his. They almost glowed under the dim light of the living room and the illumination of city lights pouring in through the window. Calling them beautiful was an insult- it just wasn't good enough.

For a second, Lisa felt different. Just for the briefest of moments, it was more than sex. More than adrenaline, and more than a thrill. She quickly closed her eyes again, turning away from him. She couldn't allow that- she would _not_ become attached to him. Those weren't the terms that they had silently agreed to.

She pressed her cheek to his as shudders spasmed through her body. She was painfully close. Even in the darkness behind her eyelids, she saw stars. She bit down hard on his earlobe. God, she hated him. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so incredible, and of course he was the one who gave her that feeling. It just had to be him, didn't it? She hated herself for allowing herself to even be put in this position and for enjoying it so much. She hated everything, and it felt too fucking good.

She cursed loudly in his ear, words that she would never dare utter in her real life. "Fuck you, Jackson," she snarled angrily. She just wanted someone to _hear_ her. He took it all in without breaking his stride- in fact, he shifted his angle and pounded into her small body with impossible force, and in his actions, she swore that she could hear those same words being spat back at her.

She lost all control of her thoughts- words spun around in no particular order- and her muscles twitched as she was brought to the brink of release. She gripped his hair, tugging hard as final guttural screams racked her body. The intense pleasure threatened to rip her apart- her dreams were pathetic shades compared to this reality. She felt Jackson shudder against her as he came with a desperate groan, biting down on her neck.

The two remained tightly pressed to each other, the only movement coming from Lisa's soft trembles. She breathed heavily, willing her heart to stop pounding in her chest. Despite how loudly her mind screamed at her to walk- _run_- out, she remained in Jackson's bed, clinging to him as tightly as she held onto her high. She didn't want to crash.

Jackson brought a hand to her thigh and squeezed, prompting her to release him. He quickly got to his feet, and ran a hand through his hair, looking a bit rattled. He tossed his chin toward the ceiling, and Lisa watched as he instantly seemed to regain his composure. He had played the part of the passionate lover and was now shedding his role. He grabbed his discarded clothes from the floor and headed into the bathroom, leaving her alone.

Lisa sat up slowly, feeling suddenly cold without his body against hers. She bit her lip, preemptively forcing away any feelings of confusion or rejection that were likely to creep into her brain. She knew the deal. It was nothing- _they_ were nothing.

She slid on her skirt and looked around the bedroom, observing the sad remnants of her useless clothing with a sudden feeling of embarrassment. What now? She hadn't even thought to bring a coat. Remembering that she at least had an intact cardigan, Lisa headed for the living room. It was thin and relatively useless, but at least she wouldn't be arrested for going out in public.

She turned to face the bedroom when she heard Jackson walking around again. He came over to her, his jeans now on, but his shirt still unbuttoned. The tousled hair and crystalline eyes were the icing on the irritating cake- he looked like some kind of debauched angel. She hated that he could look so...pure while being so cruel.

"I'm not staying here," Lisa snapped. She doubted that he even wanted her to, but she wanted to salvage _some_ of her dignity. She refused to make him think that she was going to get all emotional over someone like him.

"I wasn't planning on asking," he replied flatly, and Lisa clenched her jaw. He always had to come out on top, didn't he? "I'll let Brian know you're on your way down."

Lisa sighed heavily. Of _course_ he wasn't even going to take her home. Of _course_ he had had his driver _wait_ for her downstairs the whole time. She was just a cheap little conquest to him. He had hunted and trapped his prey with ease, and now he couldn't care less. Knowing how easily she had been caught was almost worse than being nothing. _Not almost..._

Lisa just nodded quickly, refusing to show him how much he had cut her. How had she misread the situation so much? She turned to leave, but was stopped when a hand grabbed her arm, holding her in place. Without a word, Jackson opened his closet and pulled out a black Burberry wool coat, holding it open for her.

She took a hesitant step forward, eyeing him. She didn't think that he could have surprised her more if he had taken a hammer to her head right then. She turned around, slipping her arms into the coat. Jackson tugged the lapel, turning her to face him as he began to fasten the buttons.

Lisa stared at his collarbone, suddenly nervous. She felt like she should say something- thank him, maybe? But for what? The coat? Saving her life?

"About what happened on the balcony," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. It was stupid- she knew that he probably didn't really care about what she had been doing, but she did feel like she owed him _something_.

Jackson shook his head, continuing to close the coat. He seemed oddly fascinated with the buttons, refusing to look at her. "It's not my business," he told her, pulling the square military collar taut. "But if you ask me, it would be a shame to smear that pretty face all over the pavement."

Lisa nodded, completely at a loss for how to respond. What the hell was going on? He barely looked at her after they finished and had that whole business with the driver going on, but then he had given her his coat like a gentleman and now that strange comment that was somewhat _sweet_ in a Jackson kind of way? All in less than five minutes?

She reached up and grabbed the collar of his shirt, pulling him down for a quick kiss. "Thanks," she said. It felt like enough. Without waiting for a response, Lisa turned and quickly headed for the elevator.

When the elevator doors closed around her, she ran her hands through her hair, tugging gently. She felt an overwhelming mix of emotion, giddiness and hurt being the main two fighting for dominance. That wasn't a surprise, though. What shocked her the most was the one emotion that she didn't feel- _regret_.

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**R&R, pretty please. I'm going to start sending out little previews to my readers again starting next chapter.**


	5. Identifiable Insanity

**Sorry it took so long to get this chapter posted! I just _really _struggled with it. I promise that the next one will be better, with more action and more Jackson (they almost rhyme, don't they?).**

**Pirate Gyrl: **Aw, thanks! Yep, Jackson gave her exactly what she needed. :) She's not going to go Feisty Lisa overnight obviously, but no worries- Jackson said he would drag it out of her, and he never lies.

**Knoknayme: **:D

**BW4eva: **Oh, he's not a softy _just _yet. He's still kind of an asshole, but a charming one with an appetite for destruction of couture.

**Kohana Moon: **Glad you liked it! Hope to see you stick around. :D

**Guest: **And you shall have more!

**maxwell02: **Merci!

**In this chapter, we meet Brad. Brad is...you'll see.**

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**Chapter 4: Identifiable Insanity**

Lisa curled up against Brad, resting her head on his arm and sighing contentedly at the warmth she felt. They were watching her favorite film- _Breakfast at Tiffany's_. She loved that he loved the classics.

It had been two days since she had left Jackson's condo, and she hadn't seen a sign of him, even in her dreams. The only indication that she hadn't imagined that night was the stiff pain in her thighs and a gorgeous coat still hanging in her closet. She had tried to return the coat, but there had been no answer at the buzzer. She wasn't that anxious to see him again, but she also didn't want anything of his in her life.

She still didn't regret what she had done, but she saw how stupid it had been. Her pathetic moping, her lack of self-control, and her sheer recklessness were merely a result of how much wine she had been drinking. She had had her moment of indulgence, and now it was over- the past.

Lisa still wondered if she should call the police on Jackson for the simple fact that it was the right thing to do. She had never heard of him being caught again, and even if she had somehow missed it, she doubted that his crimes would have gotten him in and out of prison in two years. It had crossed her mind more than once, but she hadn't so much as reached for the phone. She couldn't rationalize her decision. Knowing that he was out there and could easily reach her was too exciting to give up yet.

She definitely didn't enjoy the guilt, which she had plenty of. She wanted to tell Brad, but there was no point. She was never going to see Jackson again- except maybe to return his coat. It would only hurt the sweet man, and she had never wanted to do _that_.

Lisa snapped to attention when she felt Brad kiss her cheek. "You're doing it again," he whispered, amused. Lisa giggled, burying her face in his neck, a blush creeping into her cheeks. She had a bad habit of humming along with "Moon River", and hadn't even noticed that she had been doing it.

"Sorry honey," she replied, and nipped his neck playfully. She had too much energy to sit there and watch a film, even a great one.

If Brad took the hint, he didn't show it. "I forgot to tell you- we're enrolled for dancing classes tomorrow night." He furrowed his eyebrows, looking down at her. "You don't have plans, do you? I can cancel."

Lisa shook her head. "Eve and I are going shopping for the dinner on Friday, but I don't have anything else going on." She frowned slightly. "But why would you want to come? You know how to dance already." Lisa had embarrassed Brad with her lack of dancing skills more times than she could remember. It wasn't that she couldn't keep a beat- she just wasn't very graceful. She had mentioned wanting to take lessons so they could dance together, but didn't realize that he actually wanted to go with her.

"I want to dance with you," he replied, smiling warmly.

Lisa scoffed. "You just want to laugh at me," she teased, but she knew that he was telling the truth. Brad would never make fun of her like that. He wouldn't shoot antagonizing grins in her direction. He was safe.

Brad shook his head. "I thought it might be fun," he told her, tightening his grip around her shoulders. She nodded, even though she wasn't so sure. She knew that she wasn't a horrible dancer, but he made her feel like a novice.

"What color tie are you wearing to the dinner?" she asked, changing the subject. She wanted to make sure that her dress complemented his outfit. Brad laughed softly.

"I have no idea," he replied. "We go through this every time...you know I'll match whatever you get." Lisa rolled her eyes. She wanted him to have a preference, even if was something like color. She knew that he loved her in whatever she was wearing, but she had yet to find that certain outfit that made his eyes darken and his pulse dance. Even the sexiest lingerie she could find provoked nothing but ordinary lust.

She didn't bother vocalizing these desires anymore- he just didn't get it. He wanted her to wear whatever she wanted- as long as it was expensive. They did have an image to uphold, after all. And it wasn't like Lisa wanted to be told what to wear. It was just...as irritating as being told what to do could be, it sometimes felt like lately, he couldn't be bothered to care what she did.

And even that didn't make any sense. Obviously he cared- she was supposed to dress well, behave in public, go to professional salons instead of Great Clips, etc etc. But beyond that... Even the dance lessons had been entirely Lisa's idea- he had never pushed her to take them. And it wasn't like Lisa wanted to rebel...she didn't really know what she wanted. It was that same irritating something. She didn't know how to fix it because she was never really sure what was wrong.

She teasingly nipped at his neck again, tugging at the neckline of his open grey Hugo Boss sweater. She didn't want to think about it anymore. And she loved that color on him...it brought out his grey eyes, which always reminded Lisa of the sea on an overcast day.

To her dismay, Brad pulled away from her touch. "I'm tired, Lee," he admitted, kissing the tip of her nose. Lisa sank back into the couch. She got it- he had just arrived from Hong Kong that afternoon- but he was always tired lately. Even if he never said so, he just looked exhausted all the time. "Tomorrow night?"

Lisa just nodded. It didn't even bother her anymore that he always seemed to fit sex into his schedule- it was normal. She didn't remember the last time they had just taken each other wildly in the heat of passion...not that she would call what she had been trying to do "passionate". Distractions weren't passionate.

"Maybe I should go home so you can sleep?" she suggested, pulling her knees close to her chest. She knew that she was free to sleep in his penthouse if she wanted, but she rarely did. She didn't feel at home there even after years of dating him. And he usually fell asleep before she did and awoke even earlier, so it was a waste of time.

Brad frowned, almost looking disappointed. "I _could_ use some rest," he replied. "If you want to go home, that's fine...I'm not very good company tonight." Lisa just kissed him quickly, getting to her feet.

"Sleep well," she said quietly. She could tell that he wanted her to stay, but she wasn't ready to sleep yet. "I'll see you tomorrow night." She quickly flashed a smile to reassure him that she wasn't angry about what had just happened, and he returned the gesture, apparently convinced.

Brad escorted her down to her car, pulling her in for another kiss before holding the door open for her. "Relax," he assured her, leaning down to meet her eyes after she had gotten behind the wheel. "It's going to be fun." He gave her a final quick kiss. "Promise. Love you."

Lisa nodded. She wanted to believe him. "You too," she replied, starting the car as Brad closed the car door. She pulled onto the street without looking back, feeling a surprising satisfaction to be out of there. She felt so irrationally irritated, mostly at herself. She had been just fine until the conversation had turned to dance lessons and tie colors.

And she was back to that same tired question- what was _wrong_ with her? So many women would kill to have their husbands and boyfriends dance with them, let alone _want_ to do so. And he genuinely did. And while she lamented the fact that he never seemed particularly excited by what she wore, she also wondered how many women felt shame when they chose an outfit that provoked that disapproving stare- she didn't have that problem either.

No- she didn't have any external problems, really. Her problem was herself and this odd feeling like she didn't fit in her own skin anymore. She just kind of existed- no expectations, no real demands, no excitement. And she couldn't imagine how many people facing financial problems, serious relationship issues, fears and struggles with school, etc, would _love_ to have that problem.

Her problem was that she turning into one of those spoiled rich kids without the background to support it.

Lisa stopped at a red light, her attention attracted by pounding bass from the car next to her. She turned her head slightly to find the source of the intruding noise- a black Cadillac. She frowned at the woman behind the wheel- some people were so obnoxious.

Lisa turned away from the woman- she was grating on her last nerve. She turned up her own music to drown out the other car and focused her attention on the intersection instead, watching lazily as the crowd of people mingled through the crosswalk.

Once the light turned green, she took off quickly- she didn't want those cab drivers honking at her for wasting a split second of their time. She turned onto Fifth Avenue, driving past the brightly lit stores. She couldn't imagine going to sleep before even the boutiques did.

She slowed to a stop again, looking over at the smartly dressed mannequins in the windows of Saks 5th Ave. She loved the new trend in men's coats- the double-breasted military collar of those wool garments looked absolutely stunning on the right frame. She frowned slightly- she loved the coats, but they looked dead on those plastic figures.

Lisa took off again, turning away from the shopping district. She headed for Gramercy Park. It was such a romantic area- like most of Manhattan, it was always alive. There was always something happening somewhere. The worst place in the world for a lonely girl, really- the city that never sleeps. The city itself mocked her. _Oh come on, Leese- we're all having fun. Why aren't you?_

Lisa parked her car and trudged into her apartment, opening her closet, and grabbing an empty hangar for her coat. Her gaze rested on that black Burberry, and her teeth clenched. She would have to go to his condo again the next day and just return it. Even if he didn't answer, she could leave it with someone. A doorman? Or just toss it. She didn't really owe him anything.

She took a few steps back, kicking off her shoes and throwing her purse across the dark room. It was time to stop this bullshit. She was going to be happy, Goddamn it. She was going to stop sulking around like a petulant little brat. She had plenty of money and plenty of friends- if she really wanted to go out, she had every opportunity. _Just **do** it._

She chuckled dryly, as she approached the closet again again. Even his coat made her angry. How did he do that? She reached out her hand, fingering the stylishly-tarnished metal buttons. Tarnished..._how perfect._

Lisa walked away and paced around her apartment. She was just too on-edge. Maybe a walk around the park would help. It wasn't too late- it wouldn't be dangerous. And it was a nice, chilly evening...her apartment was just too suffocating. A quick walk might help clear her head.

She pulled on her suede Michael Kors boots- there was snow out there, so she needed something warm. And she'd be damned if she was wearing high heels anymore- her feet were ready to die already. Lisa reached for her coat, but found herself pulled toward the Burberry yet again. Well...it was warm enough.

She pulled on the coat slowly, her fingers trembling as she began to button it. She knew that she should wear her own coat, but this one felt right. She was already feeling better, the knowledge that she was being identifiably crazy overpowering the mysterious insanity that had been plaguing her. She _knew_ why this was wrong, and it calmed her.

Lisa headed toward the elevator and exited the building again, making her way to the park. The dance classes kept creeping into her brain as she inhaled the cold evening air. What was she so concerned about? Brad was right- it _would_ be fun. She would become a better dancer, and she would be doing it with him. The more she thought about it, the more it seemed appealing.

She found herself swaying with each step through the park, already with him in her mind. She hummed happily, tempted to close her eyes and fully surrender to the mental images she was conjuring, but she knew that she would probably walk straight into a tree.

She tilted her chin toward the dark sky, pretending that she could see the stars hidden behind the city lights and clouds. It didn't really occur to her to be upset that she couldn't see them since she had never really lived outside of a city in her life, but it would still be nice to be able to sometimes.

Lisa dropped onto a bench, hugging herself tightly. She dropped her chin, inhaling the familiar scent. Things were becoming clear again. She loved Brad. He loved her, and would never do anything to hurt her. She was safe.


	6. Game On?

**Sorry, sorry, sorry- for not posting earlier, for not sending out previews, and for completely re-writing this chapter so the story didn't have a sex scene every other chapter (I know some of you liked that first one). If I end up not including the one I wrote at some point, maybe I'll send it out to the registered reviewers.**

**Pirate Gyrl- **Oh, Brad will become quite the dick...you'll see. :) And yes, Lisa is bored out of her mind and desperately grasping at straws. The way I see it, she supposedly is living "the dream", so she's trying to convince herself that she's happy. One of those Devil Wears Prada "a million girls would kill for" kind of situations.

**ThePurpleCrayon**- There will be _plenty _more where that came from. Trust me.

**TheDreamWeaver**- And her books were burned for being too racy. That is quite the compliment! :D

**The Elegant Doll**- Done. :)

**The Dyson- **I would say I'm sorry you didn't enjoy this one either, but I think I'm more sorry that you feel the need to follow me around and criticize my writing. You don't like my style, and that's fine. So find something you do enjoy.

**Highly Unlikely**- Well, shit. I honestly don't read much fanfiction, so I have no idea if there's a story with a similar plot. Hopefully it turns out differently.

**daisy**- :D

**Enjoy!**

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**Chapter 5: Game On?**

Lisa hugged Brad tightly, throwing her head back as she laughed. "I didn't know I was _that_ bad," she said, shaking her head as he swiveled her playfully. The dance classes had ended up a total waste- the instructor was _such_ a hardass. No matter how much Lisa tried to concentrate and emulate exactly what she had seen, she had received only tight-lipped disapproving stares.

"She didn't say _that_," Brad replied, also amused. "She _did_ say you're not a total lost cause." Lisa's laughter faded, but the grin remained on her face. She should probably be embarrassed about the last two hours, but she wasn't. She was over the moon, really. Even that horrible woman couldn't get her down now. She and Brad had actually had _fun_. No politics, no work- it had reminded her of the beginning of their relationship, really.

"So..." she began, leaning up to kiss him quickly. "I need to start pilates, and _then_ I can try dancing again?" Brad gave her another kiss, brushing errant snowflakes from her bangs.

"You don't _have_ to do any of it," he reminded her. "It's not like you hit the dance floor and do the Macarena." Lisa shrugged. No- she wasn't that bad, but she knew that it would be a good idea to learn to do more than cling to Brad and shuffle. She had come to learn those actual steps, but the instructor hadn't been able to get past her posture, which apparently was "atrocious".

"It'll be fun," she replied lightly, "trying to convince Eve that we need to change to pilates." She couldn't help but smile at the thought. Eve was a total yoga freak, and was convinced that the two were on opposite sides of some elegant exercise war. Lisa had no opinion one way or the other.

Brad nodded in agreement, but didn't reply, checking his watch instead. "Where the hell...?" He let out a deep sigh, like it was just too much, and Lisa frowned. Brad had told his new driver, Todd, to pick them up at six. And it was now- Lisa leaned over, glancing at Brad's watch- 6:06. It didn't seem like the end of the world to her, but she also knew that Todd set Brad on edge- apparently, he was always late.

But Lisa didn't want to go back to the world where being six minutes late put a person's job in jeopardy. She grabbed Brad's chin, turning his head to face her again and giving him a bright smile. There was no crisis- they would make their reservations without a problem.

"Don't worry about it," she reassured him, straightening his tie. "He'll be here soon. And even if we miss them," she continued, shivering slightly as the cold air bit at her cheeks, "it's okay. We can just make sometime ourselves...spend some time together...?" She trailed off, frowning as she realized that Brad's attention wasn't even on her. He was looking at her, but at the same time, he wasn't really seeing her. He was thinking about that damn driver.

Lisa shook her head gently, stepping back to stand upright. "Or not," she murmured, turning to look out at the street. This somehow caught Brad's attention better than giving him affection, because she quickly heard him apologize.

"It's just...Stephen was my driver for so long, and he just ups and leaves, and this guy is just not working," he tried to explain, his voice sounding like the entire thing was such an _ordeal_, and Lisa couldn't find it in herself to see where was the great tragedy.

"Give him time," she replied, Brad's tone rubbing her the wrong way. "He'll settle in." She _really_ didn't like the idea of firing this new guy after less than a week on the job. She didn't even have to look over at Brad to know the expression on his face. It was patience masking incredulousness.

"I need someone who knows what he's doing," Brad explained slowly, as though it were obvious. Lisa nodded in surrender. This was one of those things they would never see eye-to-eye on, and it wasn't worth starting an argument. But her mood had definitely darkened somewhat, and she found herself staring intently at her own flats in irritation.

It wasn't as though she didn't know what she was talking about. At the Lux Atlantic, she had overseen _many_ employees, and she knew that every one of them began a job in different ways. Some dove in eagerly and burned themselves out. The ones with significant previous experience sometimes got it in their heads that they were already experts. Some let their nerves get the better of them and it took time to get comfortable.

And besides, Todd couldn't really be early. This was New York. He couldn't just sit outside a building in Manhattan for an extended period of time. And traffic wasn't exactly predictable sometimes- taking all of those things into consideration, she didn't see how it was fair to lambast a man for being a few minutes late.

She dug her toe into the concrete, considering taking Todd on as her own driver if Brad did fire him, just on principle. And a bit of spite. But it wouldn't really be her money to pay him...which was kind of fitting that Brad would be paying him regardless, but also ruined the point in a way.

Lisa shoved her hands in her pockets, biting the inside of her cheek. She was being ridiculous again, and she knew it. Brad was a busy man- he needed a punctual driver, and the agency he hired from was supposed to offer experienced professionals. And she hardly knew Todd- he had only spoken to her four times- two sets of 'good morning, ma'am' and 'good evening, ma'am'- she really hated being called 'ma'am'- why was she getting so defensive about him?

She leaned into Brad as he put an arm around her, pretending not to notice that as far as he was concerned, the discussion was completely over. Everything was fine.

The car soon pulled up, and as Lisa climbed inside, she closed her eyes, trying to recall the last two hours. They had been _happy_. They had laughed, joked around, and had fun.

She gave a half-smile, remembering Brad trying to hold back his laughter when the instructor, Lola, had grabbed Lisa's shoulders, yanking her spine straight. He had insisted it was because of the startled expression on Lisa's face, not the fact that her posture was bad. But her musings were interrupted by Brad's hand over hers, and she opened her eyes, turning to face him questioningly.

"Are you feeling alright?" Brad asked with a slight look of concern. Lisa nodded quickly, maybe too quickly.

"Just tired," she assured him. "A little- I still want to go out," she insisted, cutting herself off before Brad could even ask that inevitable question.

He nodded with that same perfect expression of understanding. He was always so put-together, even when he was on a few hours of sleep. It was a little irritating, in a way. He never really seemed to just let loose anymore...always so in control. Even when he as enjoying himself, there was still that self-awareness threatening to overtake his body.

Lisa sat up straight, studying him. He needed...something. She reached her hand forward and tousled his hair gently- it was an improvement.

Brad laughed in confusion as Lisa loosened his tie. "What are you doing?" he asked, bringing his hand up to smooth his hair. Lisa slapped his hand away.

"You need to relax," she explained, running her hand through the soft strands again. She grabbed his tie, pulling him in for a kiss- he _could_ give her a thrill...she knew it. Brad turned away, laughing again.

"What's gotten into you?" he asked, amused. He straightened his tie, throwing a glance at Todd, who apparently hadn't noticed. But Lisa knew that it was the man's job- she felt an odd urge to _make_ him notice.

But Brad had already shifted his attention elsewhere, checking his watch again. Lisa let out a barely audible sigh. They _weren't_ going to be late.

Maybe she was just trying too hard. Once they were married and the election was over, things could be like they were before. Brad hadn't been quite so pristine when they first began dating- he had been able to relax. Maybe she could even get a job again, and do something productive with her time.

"Dad's going to be at the dinner," Brad announced hesitantly. He knew how Lisa felt about Wellmont. "He's looking for donors." Lisa snapped her attention to her fiancé.

"I'm sorry," she said sharply, "he's going to be there? And he just decided this today?" Brad shook his head sheepishly.

"He told me last week," he admitted. "I forgot until now." Lisa knitted her eyebrows- what exactly had made it pop in his head? Her practically jumping him? And why did he always wait until the last minute to tell her things? Wellmont coming to the dinner, him scheduling a dancing class, most of his business trips...she could go on and on, really.

"Of course you did," she snapped, staring out the window again. She really needed to fix her filter system...

"Don't be like that," he snapped, and then sighed, taking her hand in his and kissing her knuckles. "I'm sorry- things have just been crazy, and it slipped my mind. And it's not like he's going just to torment you...he'll be too busy asking for money."

_Like he doesn't have enough_. Lisa swallowed her bitterness and squeezed Brad's hand, turning to smile at him again. She wasn't really being fair, and she knew it. "Sorry," she apologized genuinely, leaning forward for a quick kiss. "It's fine- I'll just have to make sure that I don't embarrass him with my philistine behavior, right?" She smiled to let Brad know that she was joking- mostly- squeezing his hand again.

He laughed. "Yeah- make sure you use the proper utensils this time," he teased, and Lisa rolled her eyes.

"It's unnecessary to have a separate spoon just for the caviar," she insisted, remembering the horror on Wellmont's face when she dared to eat her beluga caviar with a metal spoon. She smiled again, and this time it felt real. She really did miss the little moments like this- they felt so few and far between lately. "I think I'll be alright this time though...don't worry," she assured him, giving his hair a playful toss one more time.

Brad grinned. "Thank God," he replied, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "I was worried that we would have to exile you to the kid's table."

Lisa giggled, snuggling against him. One more year, and the election would be over and they could live like this all the time. A year wasn't _that_ long...she could handle it.

* * *

As Todd pulled the car in front of Brad's building, Lisa reassured her fiance yet again that she'd rather wait while he changed. He wasn't going to be that long- it would probably take him longer to get to the penthouse than to change...maybe. But more so than that, she really wanted a chance to talk to the driver one-on-one.

After Brad disappeared into the building, Lisa leaned forward, propping her arms on the headrests. Todd was currently sending a text message. Lisa didn't know much about professional drivers, but she was fairly sure he wasn't supposed to be doing that in front of her.

She cleared her throat politely, flashing a smile at the man as he turned to look at her. "Just don't let him see you doing that," she opened, and her smile faltered somewhat when he almost imperceptibly raised an eyebrow. When had she gotten so...superior? "I mean- I'm just- I just wanted to tell you that...Mr. Wellmont-" She still didn't know how she was supposed to refer to Brad around his staff "-is having some _problems_ with your punctuality."

Todd just nodded stiffly, and Lisa leaned forward further, lowering her voice even though they were alone. "He's kind of anal about things like that," she explained. "If he were meeting with the queen and she was a few minutes late, he'd probably call her out on it."

She felt a blush rising to her cheeks when Todd gave her a knowing smile and another nod, obviously more relaxed this time. She definitely knew she wasn't supposed to _criticize_ Brad in front of his staff.

"Thank you, ma'am," Todd replied politely, seeming to pick up on how uncomfortable Lisa had become.

Lisa winced at that title again. She had always hated it. "Call me Lisa," she insisted, and quickly continued when Todd gave her a skeptical look again. "Miss Reisert if you _have_ to."

"No problem, Lisa," he replied with a quick wink. Lisa smiled, but jumped back in her seat when the passenger door opened and Brad climbed in.

The first thing Lisa noticed was that he had not changed. The second, his frown. And she knew before he even opened his mouth that they weren't having dinner. But she knew she couldn't speak without betraying her sudden irritation, so she kept her mouth shut, waiting for the same old song and dance.

"I have to go into the office," Brad explained, not bothering to look embarrassed anymore. It had already been explained to Lisa- she knew there were problems with some business in Tokyo that Brad's company had invested in, and because of the time difference, their late night plans were tentative until they were actually _there_. And even then, the plan wasn't really solid until the night had passed without interruption.

Lisa nodded shortly. It had been explained, and was understood, but it didn't mean she liked it.

"Lee-"

"It's fine," she snapped. She wasn't as good at lying as she used to be, and Brad would never buy it. Of course things weren't fine. But how could she ever explain all these doubts she had been having, and how these constant cancellations just weren't helping things? She couldn't add that kind of pressure to him.

Most people would assume that he was having some kind of affair, but Lisa knew it wasn't the case. He was actually _working_, and it infuriated her. At least she would have been able to understand- somewhat- if he was seeing another woman, but how could a man honestly choose to work like that?

"You know I'd get out of it if I could," he replied, pleading with her to understand. "We can reschedule." _Aren't we always?_

Normally, she wouldn't be this angry at Brad for canceling on her. She understood how demanding his job was, and she knew that if he had his choice, nine times out of ten he would choose to spend time with her. But tonight, she wanted to toss that phone out the window and call his mother a whore, not necessarily in that order.

"No, I know," she replied softly, and forced a smile. "So what happened?" she asked as Todd pulled away from the curb, even though she didn't particularly care. As long as Brad talked about himself, she didn't have to tell any lies...other than the implied lie that she actually cared about his meetings...

As they rode through the brightly lit streets, Lisa kept her focus on her fiancé. She wasn't listening to the words coming from his mouth...just watching him. He looked so tired lately, especially when he was talking about work. He had promised that it was just a stressful time and that he would be more relaxed and attentive by Christmas, but how long would it be before things got busy again? He worked too much...

But she supposed that was the price to pay for the kind of money he brought in, both into his own pocket and into others'. And it was commendable, really. Only God and probably a few accountants knew how many jobs he was creating worldwide for people. He was putting a significant amount of money out into the economy, which was great. But damn it, Lisa was selfish. And sometimes she wished he would be, too.

She _missed_ him. It was just that simple, really. She missed him so much that she got angry, and the few moments she actually got to spend with him were becoming so tainted with that anger that she couldn't even enjoy him when she had him, most of the time.

She just needed to find something to do other than shop and have lunch. She needed a distraction, so she wouldn't think about how much she missed him. Maybe having some kind of life would make things easier to tolerate. If she couldn't have a job, maybe she could find some hobby, or do charity work.

The car coming to a stop in front of Brad's office building snapped her out of her lists of charities she had come across that she might want to get more involved in. She gave Brad a more-convincing reassurance that she wasn't angry with him anymore, and then he was gone in a rush.

Lisa reached into her purse, tying back her straightened hair before climbing into the front seat. She had done this with Stephen as well- it was habit. She still felt uncomfortable riding by herself in the backseat. It wasn't her style. "So what are we going to do now?" she joked weakly, resting her head against the window.

"Well," Todd began, pulling away again, "I figured we could hit up a few house parties in the Bronx. And then maybe go moonlight bungee jumping. I know, I know," he continued as Lisa laughed in spite of herself, "it gets dull after the first few times, but this is kinda last minute."

Lisa dropped her head back against the seat, rubbing her closed eyes the heel of her palm. "Ugh...I do _not_ want to do take out again," she muttered. She had food in her kitchen, of course, but she also wasn't really in a cooking mood. She had to be motivated to do that much work just for herself. She glanced over, and frowned slightly at how uncomfortable Todd's profile looked. "I'm just whining out loud," she insisted. "You don't actually have to entertain me."

"No worries," he replied casually, and Lisa turned to look out the window again. "Are you alright?"

She nodded. "I will be," she replied, pulling her coat tighter around herself. "Just in a funk right now...know what I mean?" She immediately frowned, feeling stupid. _Oh, my smart, gorgeous fiancé is too busy making millions to take me to dinner. I'm so depressed._

"I get it," she heard him say, but she definitely noticed the politeness in his voice. Humoring her was just another part of his job. Lisa nodded, and the two remained silent for the last few minutes of her ride home while she considered what she could do with the rest of her night. As usual, her friends had their own plans. It was just one of the problems with those last minute cancellations- others were rarely available.

But it wasn't really that big a deal. So she'd spend some time on her own- not the end of the world. She liked being alone, right?

Before long, Todd pulled to a stop in front of Lisa's apartment building, and she climbed out with a quick 'thank you', wishing him a good night, which he reciprocated. She stood in front of the doors, digging through her bag for her keys. It was one of those moments that she missed her simple purse. She loved the rose bonbon Balenciaga, but there were so many pockets, and she could be so scatterbrained about where she threw things.

She was distracted from her search by a sharp whistle, and her shoulders sank. She knew who it was without turning around. "I'm not a taxi," she snapped, not even turning to face him. "Or a dog." _Why_?

"Would you prefer that I call out?" he asked, and she heard him approaching her. He actually sounded playful, which irritated her. They were definitely not on light terms. "Or should I sneak up behind you?" Lisa clenched her jaw, trying not to flinch at his close proximity.

"You shouldn't be here at all," she replied shortly, feeling a quick rush of relief when her fingers grazed her keys. But she quickly tossed them back in the bag- car keys wouldn't help her now. The most important thing at the moment was to show that he wasn't rattling her- not at all. He was just a minor annoyance, distracting her from the task at hand. His presence _didn't_ make her pulse rapid. "Were you stalking me again?"

"It's something to keep me preoccupied," he countered, still not moving into her vision. Lisa couldn't help but smile faintly. It was taking her so long to find those keys that she half-expected him to take the bag from her and find them himself, but apparently a woman's purse was No Man's Land even to someone like him.

"Maybe you should take up pottery," she suggested, and even though she was still rummaging through the bag, it was becoming less evident exactly what she was looking for. It was just something to do now. "I hear it's therapeutic. Might help with your psychosis."

"Oh, I'm not crazy," he assured her. "It would be crazy to follow you without purpose. I have one." Lisa scoffed to mask her heart skipping a beat. She wouldn't show him any of her nervousness at exactly what that purpose could be. She was actually somewhat impressed with herself. She was nervous, yes- but not _afraid_.

"And what might that be?" she asked casually, as though she were only asking to be polite and she really had no interest in whatever he had to say.

"I was thinking you might be hungry," he replied. "Dancing is hard work." Lisa's fingers tightened around her newly-found keys, but she quickly recovered.

"So you follow me everywhere," she remarked. "That's not weird."

"Are you?" he asked, ignoring her remark, and Lisa stood up straight again. She was about to lay into him, to tell him that _no_, she wasn't hungry- she was- and even if she were, he was one of the last people she would eat with. But it occurred to her that he was probably expecting that very response. That response, and maybe a threat about calling the police.

After all, why wouldn't he at least attempt to hide his stalking unless he wanted those reactions? He wanted to get a rise out of her, make her uncomfortable. And she would be damned if she gave him exactly what he wanted.

"I am," she replied, finally turning to look at him. She quickly attempted to quell her first reaction to actually seeing him- he looked amazing. It was a shame, really- all that beauty wasted on someone who was so ugly and twisted inside. But she buried those thoughts. "Are you asking me to dinner?"

Just as she expected, a quick streak of surprise flashed across his face, and Lisa allowed herself a somewhat smug smile. She doubted he liked her any more than she did him, and she doubted he actually _wanted_ to spend time with her. So now she had him- he could either continue his game as though he had expected compliance and mutually suffer through a meal, or he could admit defeat.

He only nodded once, leaning against the glass panel next to the door. He did manage a charming smile, but Lisa was sure she could see through it. "You interested?"

She nodded with a bright smile, despite her inner desire to key him in that perfect face. She had been to many dreaded dinners- it was a small price to pay to let him know that he did _not_ get under her skin. He was beneath her radar now, and had been up until that flight two years ago, as far as he should be concerned. "I need to change first, though," she explained, glancing down at the leggings and flats she had worn to the class- hardly dinner attire. A new idea came to her, one that she didn't particularly like, but one that would definitely send him that desired message. "You want to come up?"

She did not like the idea of having him in her apartment, with no witnesses, but it would obviously let him know that she wasn't scared of him. And it had the added benefit of giving their...relationship...a familiarity that it didn't and shouldn't possess. If she was right about his motivations, it would have to grate on his nerves that things were going so unexpectedly.

"That all depends," he replied after another moment of obvious surprise. She had caught him off-guard again, and it sent a small thrill shooting through her. "Are you just changing or 'getting ready'?"

Lisa had intended to just change, but that would give him an out. It didn't even occur to her anymore that she was letting him in too close all over again- she knew that he didn't want her to. "I was going to take a shower," she told him, changing her plans. "And it's warmer upstairs than it is out here."

_That_ got him. Not only had she suggested he come up into her apartment, she was 'trying to convince' him. She felt so...powerful. The enjoyment of coming out on top was now trumping her actual hesitations- he actually _wasn't_ getting to her. She could see right through him- he wasn't this immaculate, impermeable robot with a plan. She could beat him at his own game.

"There's a guest area in the garage," she continued politely, holding back her glee to avoid tipping her hand. "So you don't have to spend more money- you are at a meter, right?" She smiled warmly when he only nodded. _You can recover better than **that**._

Shoving her apartment keys into her pocket, Lisa followed Jackson to his car, climbing into the passenger seat after he held the door open for her. _A gentleman creeper. How refreshing._

But as Jackson began driving toward her parking garage, Lisa did feel some obligation to lay down the limits. "I want you to stop following me," she told him firmly.

"No you don't," he replied flatly, not even turning his head. Lisa sat back, her jaw set. Yes, she was giving him the advantage for the moment, but she also had no plans to let him walk all over her. Especially considering how their last meeting had turned out.

"Yes I do," she insisted. "Just because I'm even in this car doesn't mean that you get to take me wherever you want and sleep with me." Dinner was one thing- it could be innocent. Lots of people had dinner. "You just caught me on a bad night, that's all. I was being stupid and it's not going to happen again."

Jackson glanced at her, grinning. "You're not going to be stupid ever again?" he taunted. "What's your secret?" Lisa's cheeks flushed, and for some reason, it occurred to her at that moment that something was missing.

"What happened to your driver?" she asked, refusing to get caught up in the fact that he had thrown her words back in her face. She relayed the code into the parking garage, barely noticing their surroundings as he pulled in.

"I don't have a driver," he replied casually. "He's just a buddy of mine."

Lisa's eyes shot open wide. Was he serious? "You did it just to screw with me?" she snapped, losing the game. "That's horrible."

"You shoved a pen in my throat," he retorted with that same mocking grin. "Call it even?" And there it was- the first time either had verbally acknowledged their past.

"You tried to kill me and my dad," Lisa spat back incredulously. "I would hardly call that even."

"And you almost killed me and sabotaged my job, which didn't exactly make for an easy work environment. Plus I almost went to prison and I'm in the system," Jackson pointed out, his voice irritatingly steady.

"You threw me down the stairs. Pull in over there."

"You sprained my hand with that stick, threw a chair _and_ a vase at me, and stuck a damn shoe in my leg." Lisa smiled in spite of herself. His tone was so wrong for this kind of conversation. He was still being _playful_.

"Fine- we're even," she conceded, just to end the weird exchange. "But I still hate you." He nodded.

"I know," he replied, putting the car in park and cutting the engine. The two walked in silence until they entered the elevator, and Lisa spoke up again.

"What are you trying to do?" she asked, still trying to sound casual. She still wasn't afraid, but it didn't really make sense that he was going through all this work just to screw with her. He was so confusing.

"I could ask you the same question," he replied, but Lisa heard the rest. _But I won't, because I don't really care._ And she also knew that he wasn't going to answer the question, but did it really matter what he wanted? When she was with him, she didn't have to think about Brad, clothes, money- any of it. And that was fine by her. Her words came out more naturally, even if they weren't her actual feelings. She didn't feel so...she didn't know the word to describe how Jackson made her felt.

Lisa couldn't see anything good about Jackson- she did hate him. But she enjoyed the hate. It occurred to her that the odd conversation they had just shared was the most real one she had had in too long. She thought it was just a game at first, trying to hit the other the hardest, but coupled with their attempts to out-shock the other back at her door, she was already feeling more alive than she had so far that evening.

"Does this mean we have a clean slate?" she asked somewhat sarcastically as they approached her door.

"I suppose it does," he replied with that same hint in his tone. "I won't try to kill you, and you can stop acting like I'm going to swallow you whole." Lisa smiled again at the imagery- he _was_ kind of a snake.

"Sounds like a plan," she replied, finding that she actually liked the idea somewhat, even though it wasn't possible and they weren't being serious anyway. She didn't really know what to think- she had absolutely no inclination to have him in her life again, but at the same time, she was actually enjoying herself somewhat. Maybe...no. That was ridiculous.

She was the good girl. She cared about people, and always felt that urge to make others happy. She had been that way for years, and it probably wasn't going to change anytime soon. She didn't have a darker nature, the kind that lent to enjoying playing mind games with an assassin. It was...stupid to even think about it, really.

"This is it," she offered as they entered her apartment. She tried to hide her embarrassment at how _bare_ it looked. It was a sad little place, actually, which was probably the reason she hated returning to it when her plans with Brad were cancelled.

Jackson only nodded, and Lisa eyed him suspiciously. No catty little comment to dig at her? What was he up to?

"You want a drink?" she asked hesitantly. Now that it was down to it, she did feel somewhat rude for making him sit there while she got ready. She tried to push it away, reminding herself that it was his own fault for appearing out of nowhere and trying to mess with her, but it was that inherent desire to please people. No, it wasn't that. It didn't feel quite the same. She didn't know exactly what it was, really. "I have wine...and vodka, but that's about it."

"I can get it," he replied, giving a final glance at the piles of boxes as he moved behind her again to pull off her coat. Lisa tensed slightly. Why was he being so...normal now? Had she missed the rules of the game changing?

"Probably a good idea," she replied softly, sucking in her lips when his fingers grazed her bare arm. There was so much electricity between them, wanted or not. She couldn't be imagining it. But she also wouldn't let herself embrace it, reminding herself that dinner was fine, well...as fine as it got with him. But anything more...she was _engaged_. Once was a mistake, twice would be something very different. "You shouldn't let girls who've maimed you make a drink for you."

"That's always been my philosophy," he replied casually as he put their coats in the closet. "But you didn't exactly _maim_ me." Lisa crossed her arms, spinning on the ball of her foot as she turned to face him, a smirk on her face.

"Shame," she replied, feeling another jolt of excitement when he mirrored her expression. "Did I at least leave a scar?"

Jackson nodded, his head bowing slightly in yet another taunt. "You left a few," he explained, his voice almost a whisper. "You want to see?" Without waiting for a response, he leaned forward, tugging down the neckline of his t-shirt to give her better access to his throat.

Lisa tilted her head as Jackson raised his chin, and sure enough, as she leaned forward, she saw a faint scar. Without asking, she raised her hand, running one finger over the silky spot. She tried her best to ignore her heart picking up its pace at their close proximity again. She was on a mission. "Looks nice," she remarked, hoping that he was recalling how she had ruined his plans and likely humiliated him, on top of leaving a mark that would never go away.

When Jackson lowered his head again to make eye contact, she saw a faint glimmer of anger, and then it occurred to her. Maybe the rules hadn't changed. Maybe he was changing his tactics, pretending that this was completely normal to get her questioning things. It had almost worked, but he would have to do better than that.

"Make yourself at home," she continued, smiling confidently as she pulled her hand away from his throat.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" he asked, brushing past her as he walked over to the nearby sound system and turning it on, filling the room with the sounds of Bowie's "Slow Burn". He gave a small nod, seemingly of approval, before turning to look at her questioningly.

The question had caught Lisa off-guard. She assumed he was the kind of guy who didn't give a second thought to people's preferences, especially not hers. She would have been less surprised if he had just lit up right in front of her, daring her to say something.

But he was waiting for an answer, and Lisa ignored her first instinct to tell him no- again, it was probably what he expected. "That's fine," she replied with a dismissive wave of her hand, finally moving from the door. "Just light a candle." She didn't _really_ care if he smoked, actually- she wasn't a smoker, but she had never been militant about it- but she also didn't want the apartment smelling like it.

She headed to her room, glancing back once. She was stopped in her tracks by the sight of Jackson using her pomegranate candle to light his cigarette, bathing his face in the glowing candlelight. He really was gorgeous- she would have to be blind not to notice. And it was obvious that he hadn't noticed her looking at him- it might have been the first time since she had caught a glimpse of him at the Tex-Mex that she was just seeing him behaving for himself, not for another's benefit. And he still looked completely casual. How could a person be so...the opposite of self-aware?

Lisa forced herself to turn away before she could really think about how the light danced across his cheekbones, walking the rest of the way into her bedroom. She was honestly jealous. Even when she was on her own, there was this feeling of self-consciousness. She always felt like eyes were on her, that she was constantly being scrutinized by the world.

She stayed in the shower longer than she normally would, the faint sound of music- sounded like "Five Years"- an unnecessary reminder of the present circumstances. For all she knew, Jackson could be...what? Going through her things? Planning his next steps in some elaborate game that she just wasn't seeing? Sitting where she had left him, doing his own thing and completely disregarding what she was doing?

She knew that any moment, she could kick him out. She owed him nothing, and it wasn't like letting him get the reaction he wanted would be _that_ horrible. It was some comfort, in a way. Something told her that if she told him to leave, he would. And if she asked him to stay, he would- was. Whatever she told him, she had his attention. It was so unfamiliar. And of all the people to be paying that much attention to the words coming out of her mouth, the movement of her body...the fact that it was _Jackson_ was somewhat unsettling, yes, but also, freeing. She wasn't sure how to put it into words, exactly- it was a feeling she had, a sense that if she could put _him_ in his place, there wasn't much she couldn't do.

Lisa finally exited the shower, wrapping a towel around herself. She rubbed a smaller towel through her hair, briefly considering how she would style it. She quickly decided just to dry it- she wasn't going to do anything special for him. Putting only a small amount of anti-frizz serum through her wet tresses, Lisa began to dry her hair. She absently wondered exactly where he'd take her- it couldn't be anywhere she was used to going. She refused to believe that he had actually made reservations on the off-chance that she might actually agree to go out with him.

She finally finished drying her hair, and stood up straight again. She wasn't used to seeing herself so...raw. It had been a while since she hadn't put actual work into her appearance. It was actually somewhat refreshing in a way. But it still nagged at her, and she quickly grabbed a section of hair from the side of her head, twisting it and pinning it near the back. She did the same with the other side, and felt a bit more satisfied. She wasn't doing it for him- what was wrong with wanting to look nice for herself?

Securing her towel again, Lisa exited her bathroom, gasping in surprise when she saw Jackson's slim frame leaning against her bedroom wall, a glass of wine in his hand. _Jesus_. Well, she _had_ been thinking that he had to up the ante to rattle her, and it appeared that he had done so. And, the lingering taunt in his smile gave him away- he was still playing the game.

"If you're going to be here, you might as well make yourself useful," Lisa snapped, trying to cover how he had startled her- and still was. "Get me some clothes," she continued, heading for her dresser.

Jackson took a long drink, obediently walking over to her closet. He didn't even ask what she wanted- either he didn't care or he had something particular in mind. Lisa glanced over at him as he pulled an old t-shirt from the closet. It had been one of her favorites- a simple white shirt with a silkscreen of a cartoon bumblebee and some flowers. She loved the playful quality of it, but she hadn't worn it in a long time- at least since she left Miami.

Lisa had quickly thrown on a lacy white bra and panties while Jackson's back was turned. The little bit of fabric gave her some shelter as she reached for the clothes he offered to her. Yes, she could have waited until he handed the outfit to her and gone to the bathroom to change, or told him to leave, but neither were really an option to her. She just straight up refused to show vulnerability at this point. He could add blatant peeping tom to his 'creep' repertoire if he wanted, but he would have to find some other girl if he wanted that visible discomfort.

"Do you know how to dance?" she blurted, pulling on her jeans as the song changed to the swaying rhythm of "Life on Mars". "Slow dance?" She had realized that the only way to keep her mind off of how exposed she was was to change the subject, and it was the first unrelated thought that popped in her head.

Jackson nodded, sitting on her bed. "Doesn't everyone?" he asked confidently, taking another drink.

Lisa shrugged, throwing her shirt over her head. "Apparently not," she mumbled, but she wasn't that embarrassed- Jackson's response indicated that they might not be talking about the same thing. Yes, probably everyone could shuffle to a tempo, but spins and steps were more complicated and so hard to make look natural.

"I take it your class didn't go well?" he asked, and Lisa could see that he was holding back a laugh. Of _course_ her failures were funny to him.

"It would have been fine if that...Hitler of a woman didn't keep touching me," she snapped defensively. "She kept getting on my case about my posture, and then I couldn't think about the steps...she said I was too stiff- well, of _course_ I was. She kept pushing my back and moving my head. It was like meeting Brad's grandmother all over again." _But Brad made it all better...at the moment, at least. Then he went right back to his same self and it all went to hell again._

Really, she had no idea why she was telling Jackson of all people, but it felt good to get it off her chest. She had been trying since she came to New York to look like a woman Brad should be with, but she kept falling short. She had never realized until that point how unrefined she was, and it was a constant concern that nagged at her.

"So find a new instructor," Jackson replied, surprising Lisa. She had expected him to play it off, or maybe make a joke at her expense. But he seemed to actually be listening to her. "And do pilates if you're so worried about it."

Lisa narrowed her eyes, walking back into the bathroom. "That's what she said," she replied, taken aback. She hadn't realized that it was such common knowledge that pilates improved posture.

Jackson soon joined her, leaning against the doorframe. "There's nothing wrong with your posture," he explained, his eyes still dancing with amusement. "Don't beat yourself up trying to be perfect for them."

Lisa scowled, but quickly relaxed her face, trying to apply her mascara. "What do you know about it?" she asked, a slight accusation in her voice. Jackson certainly didn't seem like the kind of man who really worried what others thought of him. And who was he to give her what sounded like genuine advice?

"Nothing," he replied shortly, draining his glass. "Absolutely nothing." It wasn't until he walked away that Lisa turned toward the now-empty doorframe, realizing that there was a hint of bitterness in his voice. She shook her head, squishing her curiosity. It was his problem, not hers.

"Jackson stole twenty souls in a day," she sang softly along with Bowie, applying her lipstick. "To take away...a take away...he takes away." She fluffed her curls before exiting the bathroom, walking out to find Jackson in the kitchen, rinsing his glass. When he turned to her again, she decided that the tightness in his voice and the sincerity in his responses must have been her imagination. He looked his old self.

"What's it like?" she asked, jumping up on the counter. If she actually did have him all to herself for some time, and had his attention, she figured she might as well ask some of the questions she had wondered after their flight. Besides, she wanted _him_ on edge instead of focusing on her own issues. "Following people around, watching them live their lives and knowing you're going to use them...or kill them."

When Jackson only lit another cigarette, seeming to ignore the question, Lisa pressed on. "Don't you care at all?" she asked, unable to hide the accusations anymore. "How can you do it?"

Jackson turned to fully face her, a somewhat disconcerting expression on his face. She was reminded of their plane ride again, when she had learned that Keefe's family was at risk, too. She thought she had seen some remorse in his face at that time, and had written it off, but...it was back again. Just a hint, a dullness in his eyes hiding behind his otherwise controlled face. If she hadn't been completely focused on him, she might have completely missed it.

"We all have our roles to play," he replied cryptically, taking a drag before offering it to her. Lisa took the cigarette without hesitation, crossing one leg over the other. She wasn't about to give him more reasons to mock her.

"You do your part and move on?" she paraphrased, recalling what he had said back then. She took a drag of the cigarette and suppressed a cough as the gritty smoke burned her mouth, hiding a grimace.

Jackson nodded firmly, pouring a small amount of wine into a new glass. "Then why are you here now?" Lisa asked, taking another drag. "This is hardly moving on, you know."

"Oh," Jackson began casually, offering the glass to Lisa, "I saw your engagement announcement, and figured I'd drop in on an old friend...see how you're doing, offer my congratulations." He grinned at Lisa's skeptical expression and then went serious again. "Why are you letting me?" he asked bluntly, taking the cigarette from her fingers.

Lisa took a drink of wine, remaining silent. What exactly could she say to that? She didn't really know herself. It was...fun? But it wasn't, not really. Her thoughts on the matter seemed to change with every passing minute. "You haven't congratulated me," she finally pointed out, avoiding the question.

"Congratulations," Jackson replied flatly, taking a drag. "He's quite the catch, from what I've heard." Lisa took another drink, choosing not to respond. His congratulations seemed more mocking than anything else, not that she really expected something heartfelt.

Jackson took another step toward, her catching her left hand in his. "Gorgeous," he appraised, studying the diamond, and Lisa tried to pull her hand away in confusion. He didn't have his usual superior tone- he actually seemed impressed with the ring. Jackson winked at her, his genuineness gone as quickly as it had come. "You must be very precious to him," he remarked, quickly kissing Lisa's hand before she snatched it away.

"What's wrong with that?" she asked, spinning the ring slowly with her thumb. "Is it that hard to..." she trailed off, unsure what she was even going to say.

Jackson shook his head, offering her the cigarette in exchange for her glass. "Not at all," he replied, answering her unasked question. "If you're happy." Lisa coughed on the heavy smoke, taken aback again by his sincerity. Was this really happening? Were they really relaxing in her kitchen, seriously discussing her engagement?

"I am," she insisted, almost defensive again. Where did he get off implying that she wasn't? And even if he was right- which he wasn't- her funk was _temporary_- it wasn't his business. At all.

Jackson only nodded in a way that heavily suggested he didn't believe her, glancing over at the living room. "You moving?" he asked, changing the subject. Lisa nodded, reaching forward to take the glass from his hand.

"At the end of December," she replied flatly, taking a last drag before handing the cigarette back to him. He took it without even looking at her- it was a bit unnerving that he seemed to sense what she was doing. She gestured absently, taking a drink. "The boxes on the far wall are going to charity, and the furniture too."

"It's not even Thanksgiving," he pointed out, and Lisa knew that he wouldn't have noted such an obvious fact out loud unless he had a reason. He was mocking her again. "And what about those?" he continued, gesturing to two secluded boxes in the opposite corner.

"Trash," Lisa responded quickly, lying through her teeth. She knew it was a stupid response- who packed up their trash and left it lying around in boxes? The truth was that those boxes contained her more personal possessions, the things that meant enough to her to bring from Miami- everything else had been purchased after she moved. They were mostly things she had had since she was a child- her fairy lamp, a shell-encrusted bowl she had made, among others.

They weren't coming with her. They didn't fit the decor, didn't fit her new life. She had packed them up intending to send them back to her dad to store, but it had quickly become apparent that there was absolutely no point. It was just as ridiculous as her dad keeping her bedroom the same it had looked when she was young, stuffed animals and pink bedspread and all. But she couldn't bring herself to throw them away. She couldn't even bring herself to move them over to the possessions that were going to be donated.

It was childish. It was stupid, but it was personal. She was dealing with it in her own way, and there was absolutely no way she was going to let Jackson in on the truth. Not only would he pick her apart- even if he actually said nothing- it was an area of her life he straight up wasn't invited into.

When Jackson only turned to throw her a skeptical glance, obviously picking up on her lie, Lisa threw her head back to conveniently avoid eye contact, finishing the wine. She set the glass down on the counter, jumping to her feet. "Are we going or what?" she asked, her tone sharper than she would have preferred.

Jackson nodded, putting out the cigarette in the empty wine glass, coming within inches of Lisa as he did so. He furrowed his eyebrows, giving her an expression she couldn't quite place before walking over to the closet. She frowned as she followed him, a strange feeling nagging at her. He had been about to say something. And yet again, he hadn't seemed mocking or taunting. So...what could he possibly have wanted to say?

Lisa accepted the coat he handed to her, putting it on slowly as he turned to walk out of her apartment. She shook her head, following him out the door. It didn't matter. Whatever it was, it wouldn't have been useful. It was _Jackson_, for Christ's sake. No, she just had to get through dinner- she couldn't back out _now_- and then lay down the law and get him out of her life again, for once and for all.

* * *

**I hope things aren't progressing too quickly. Or too slowly, I guess. R&R!**


	7. The Gardener

**Thanks to all of those who reviewed- glad you liked their little game. This one...I'm not all that happy with the beginning, but I've gone over and over and _over _it. This is as good as it gets, so bear with me. :)**

**KnoKnayme-** Thank you as always, hon. :D

**MademoiselleGF-** I know I sent you the PM, but I'll paraphrase again here in case others had the same reaction that you did. When I say Jackson lacks self-awareness and doesn't seem to care what goes on around him, it's supposed to be that as far as Lisa could see, he isn't concerned with projecting an image. He will most definitely _not _be a foil for Brad- they are actually going to come across quite similar in many ways.

As for the sex scene, it was back at Jackson's place, but I decided I didn't want them going there again yet. But I think I found a place for it, so yay! And there will be some more scenes coming up in the next chapter or three. :)

**Jj-** Oh yeah, that's definitely going to be a theme here. Lisa obviously can't just suddenly come out as his total equal, but she's going to be coming out of her shell more and more with him.

**Megan S Lox-** They're fun to write. As for Caleb...we'll have to see what happens.

**Pirate Gyrl-** Glad you liked Todd. We'll be seeing more of him in the future. ;) I don't think your thoughts about Brad are unfounded.

I already have some idea of how Jackson's reveal is going to go down, but it's not going to happen for a while. And yes, Lisa is pretty cute. Jackson agrees, as you'll see.

* * *

**Chapter 6: The Gardener**

Lisa tapped her fingers absently on her thigh, staring at the window. She had gone too far, let herself get too much into the game. Things _weren't_ alright between them, and the details of her personal life just weren't something she wanted to or should be sharing with him.

But she had to say _something_. They had only been in the car for a handful of minutes, and the tension was already suffocating.

"Where are you from?" she asked, blurting out the first thing that popped in her head. And obviously, even if she knew it was irrelevant, she was curious. Where did assassins come from? Was he created in some lab? She had never really thought about it before, but now that the idea was in her head, it was a curious thing to imagine that Jackson had a family somewhere. He might even have friends, the delusional bastards.

"D.C.," Jackson replied, seemingly unphased by the mundane question. "And-" His lips curled into a wry grin. "-Mississippi." He didn't elaborate, and Lisa tried again. He must not have spent _that_ much time in Mississippi. Nothing about him seemed southern to her. She would definitely have placed him on the east coast, in some city. New York fit him perfectly, but D.C. wasn't out of the question, either.

"Why two places?" she asked, "Your parents divorced? And where in Mississippi?" Jackson shook his head, driving the car onto the freeway.

"My dad worked in D.C., so we lived there for a while, and then moved back to Jackson with my mom for security reasons."

"What does that mean?" Lisa asked, tilting her head. "Security reasons- wait. _Jackson_?" She grinned, shaking her head in disbelief. He had to be screwing with her. Or his parents were even more horrible than she had originally thought. Or- the most likely option- his name was a lie. But she decided to keep playing along for the time being. "You're Jackson from _Jackson_?"

"It means what it sounds like," he replied, now sounding slightly irritated. "He worked for the CIA, wasn't all that popular among certain circles, and so he sent us back there when I was five." Lisa only nodded, unsure of what to say to that. It sounded like Jackson's dad must have been high up, and she couldn't imagine that he could go from the son of someone like that to a criminal...did that mean he was on the level? But he had told her he didn't work for the CIA. But it also could have been a lie. Maybe he was some kind of black sheep of the family, branching off onto his own dark path.

"Worked?" she asked, finally picking up on his use of the past tense. She saved her new thoughts for later- maybe he could answer them without her having to ask. "Did something happen to him?"

Jackson shook his head again. "He's a politician now," he explained, and Lisa furrowed her brow. Why was he being so _honest_? Until this point, he had just been a name, a name that she had tried to Google more than once, but hadn't found any information. She had assumed since then that it was quite possible- downright likely- that he had given her some kind of alias.

But giving her all this information about his family? It was strange...along the lines of taking her to his condo. With just this information, she could probably not only find out his real name and turn him into the police, but create a world of trouble for his family.

"An important one?" she asked, trying to sound merely curious. But now she wanted to narrow it down. Jackson nodded, but again didn't elaborate, turning to glance at her instead.

"Does it matter?" he asked. Lisa shook her head, turning to look out the window again. It really didn't. As the idea of going to the police with any information he gave her fully settled in, she realized that it probably wouldn't make a difference. People didn't just _disappear_ from police custody. He had been released intentionally- it was obvious now that she was really thinking about it.

That meant that either he was important, that he knew important people, or some combination of the two. Or there was a lot of money involved. Maybe all of the above. So no, it didn't really matter.

"I was just curious," she finally replied, staring him down until he finally looked back at the road. She was still more curious as to exactly why he had even answered her few questions, but it was probably a line of bullshit anyway. She couldn't trust any word that came out of his mouth. "But isn't being important in Mississippi kind of like being a champion rib eater? I mean, I _guess _it's impressive." She had nothing against Mississippi of course.

Jackson had opened his mouth to reply, but cut himself off with a laugh at her last statement. "I guess it is," he replied, still grinning faintly. "Which is probably why he doesn't live there anymore." He gave another soft laugh and rolled his shoulders. "Alright," he began again, "like I said, D.C. until I was five, then Mississippi until I was ten, Baltimore for a few years, back to D.C., then Kansas, Massachusetts, California, Boston, and now New York," he relayed quickly. "What else? I have three siblings- a twin brother, a younger sister, and a half-brother. Mom was a lawyer...she died when I was twelve." He paused, gesturing absently with his hand. "Cancer. That's when we went back to Dad." Any sadness that had been in his voice for those few seconds disappeared just as quickly, and he glanced back at Lisa, looking more amused than anything else now. "Satisfied?"

Lisa opened her mouth to respond, but only a surprised, uneasy laugh came from her lips, which really wasn't appropriate considering the circumstances. Yes, she had been asking, but why would he just...? "Not really," she replied honestly, still feeling a bit blindsided. His answers left her with a million more questions. Some part of her- the human part, maybe- couldn't help but feel sympathy about his mother. No kid deserved to lose a parent. And the fact that he had apparently been separated from his dad for at least five years of his childhood. And _Jesus_, he moved around. "It explains a lot," she murmured, not intended to say anything out loud.

"Does it?" he asked, and despite the fact that his voice still gave off hints of amusement, Lisa heard a tightness in his tone. As her gaze shifted, she noticed that the streetlights gave away his tight grip on the steering wheel. He was telling the truth- he had to be. If he were lying, giving a backstory of some character he made up, he would probably be more relaxed about it. Unless he was that good at lying, which he might well be. Probably was. But for the moment, she chose to believe that she was hearing the truth- this whole back-and-forth 'is he lying, is he not?' was already too exhausting.

"...oh. Do you still work as a...manager?" she asked, realizing that she was staring at his hands and he had been waiting for some kind of answer. It was a subject change, but she felt so much more comfortable with the focus on him instead of her, and besides, trying to give some opinion about his past would likely lead to a tense conversation that was downright unnecessary. And explanations weren't excuses, so it was irrelevant anyway.

"I do," he replied, and Lisa felt her stomach sink. Some part of her, no matter how naïve, had hoped that he had...made something of himself. She didn't like to think that in the two years since they had seen each other, he had been killing and using people just as he had tried to do with her. "But they've had me more on the legit side of things for a couple years."

_Oh_. Lisa suddenly recalled his statement about her actions not making for a comfortable work environment. Had he actually been...demoted, or whatever it was called? If so, it definitely didn't bode well for her. It practically screamed 'revenge'. "And what's that?" she asked softly, her voice shaking somewhat. _Now_ the fear was starting to creep in. It hadn't even occurred to her that he would be punished for her sabotage, and definitely not anything long-term. It really wasn't good news. And it hit her with sickening reality that she may have been _very _stupid- she was in his car and had no idea where they were. Thankfully, Jackson continued speaking, enabling Lisa to distract herself before she could start panicking.

"Jocelyn-Mill," Jackson replied, shooting her a pointed look. Lisa tried to hide her surprise, but knew she wasn't successful. She knew that agency. She was quite familiar with the name, actually.

"That's the group helping Brad's dad," she pointed out, a light blush painting her cheeks. He obviously knew that. "Are you one of his advisors?" The world could _not_ be that small. And the idea of Jackson of all people...well, Wellmont was scum, so it actually made sense in a weird way. Scum advising scum on how to be an asshole at a national level. Jackson gave a short nod, exiting the freeway.

"So you lied when you said you never lied to me," she pointed out, changing subjects again. She was now convinced he had given her an alias. Besides the fact that having a father with an important name made it very unlikely he used it, who in their right mind would name their child Jackson if that was where they were from? He probably just took it from the city itself and added Rippner because it sounded sinister. Not to mention the fact that it just happened to match her father's initials. _No_. It shouldn't have been a surprise, but she found herself irritated to find out that it actually _bothered_ her. Jackson stopped at a red light, turning to look at her in confusion.

"Every word I just said was true," he replied, actually sounding somewhat defensive. But she wasn't going to let him get away with it.

"But you gave me a fake name," she accused. "Don't even try-"

"It _was_ my name," he interrupted. "The one I grew up with...Rippner was my mother's maiden name. And I kept using it sometimes...for various reasons."

Lisa had no idea how to respond to that. She could guess at least one of the reasons- protecting his father. But again, she was surprised- pleasantly, actually- to find out that he had told the truth. Evidently not about killing his parents, but that had obviously been a joke. But she wasn't about to apologize- what else was she supposed to think? That an assassin went around telling people his real name? It was beyond reckless.

"But you don't use it anymore," she finally replied, and it wasn't a question. Even if he had somehow arranged to be released from custody, it wasn't like he could go by Jackson Rippner anymore. She actually felt a small stab of guilt- ridiculous but still present- that he couldn't use his mother's name anymore because of her.

No. Not because of her. Because of himself. If he hadn't come after her, come after her father, none of this would have happened. There was absolutely no way he was going to make her regret what she had done. Even if he gave her a laundry list of reasons why Keefe was scum and deserved assassination, she had done what she felt was right given the information she had at the time. No regrets.

Well, maybe one regret. If she could do it over again...well, besides the obvious wish that she could make none of it happen, she would do a better job staying out of the limelight after it happened. She hated the terrorist-thwarting, national heroine label that had been assigned to her overnight, and the fame that had come with it. Even if it was the reason she had met Brad in the first place, and even if no one really cared anymore, she had still never enjoyed that temporary spotlight.

"You can't care." Lisa snapped her attention back to Jackson when she heard his words. He could have been on the same conversation, but something in the distant tone told her otherwise. He was finally answering the questions she had asked back in her apartment. "You learn not to," he continued, his eyes never leaving the road. "You do your best not to hurt people who don't deserve it, but...well, you get it."

Lisa shook her head, feeling her anger rising all over again. "No, I don't," she snapped. "Are you saying I _deserved_ what you did to me?" How could he sit there and claim that he tried not to hurt 'innocents' when if he had had his way, she would have had the Keefes' blood on her hands for the rest of her life? How was that not hurting her?

When Jackson remained silent, looking maddeningly unaffected, she continued. "Do you really think I would been able to live with myself? I _deserved_ that guilt?"

He still said nothing, and this time, neither did Lisa. There was nothing more to say- she had gotten her point across, and if he wanted to ignore it to keep up his apparent superhero fantasy...his delusions weren't her problem anymore.

After several more minutes of silence, Jackson pulled into a parking lot and cut the engine. Lisa was about to get out of the car when he finally turned toward her.

"I fucked up that job," he admitted bluntly, and Lisa removed her hand from the door, unsure of what to say. "In many ways. You were..." He sighed, running a hand through his hair, "...the wrong woman to choose. I missed it then." He put a hand on Lisa's jaw, turning her face toward him, and she saw that same sincerity, that same remorse, but much more magnified. He wasn't even trying to hide it. She wanted to turn away, more uncomfortable than she had been, but he held her fast. "No, you didn't deserve it. Most people would be perfectly content to sit back and convince themselves that they had no choice, but you knew it was bullshit. You were- are- too good a person."

Lisa clenched her jaw against his fingers, feeling her anger reaching a point that she hadn't felt in years. He wasn't going to sweet talk his way out of _anything_. He could have ruined her life, and why? Because of her job. 'Most people are shit' just wasn't going to cut it. "Or maybe you're just a horrible one," she suggested steadily, still giving a feeble attempt to play off her own anger. Jackson gave her a rueful smile.

"It wasn't personal, Leese," he replied softly, sliding his hand back to cradle her head, running his fingers through her curls. "If it were, things would have ended up much differently."

Jackson fell silent, trying to gauge Lisa's reaction without making it obvious that he was studying her. He saw the confusion and questioning dancing in her eyes, and knew he had hit his target. It was the truth, but not the entire truth, and he definitely wasn't relaying it out of choice. Throughout the night, when she was mostly absorbed in her little world of whirling Lisa thoughts, he had been studying her, learning her language all over again.

It hadn't been difficult. He knew what she had been trying to do earlier, and he actually had to tip his hat to her in that regard. Not many would have the wherewithal to actually rise to his challenges. And really, she had almost gotten the better of him a handful of times.

But now they weren't in her apartment anymore. They were in his car, on _his_ turf, and even if she didn't realize it, Lisa had surrendered her advantage. She was hanging on his every word, trying to analyze everything that came out of his mouth- he recognized the behavior because he himself shared that habit. He was just better at hiding it.

And he had shared the information about his family- just those barebones- because he knew she regarded him as some evil entity, and it was his way taking care of various issues. First of all, he had given her his backstory. A backstory meant humanity. And every word _was_ true, if only because he hadn't bothered to come up with something false earlier and it was never a good idea to make up that kind of information on the fly. She _had_ to see him as an actual person, or he could never pull her in. As for his current job, he hadn't particularly wanted to share how close he was to Wellmont so early, but it would make things more complicated if she found out later.

It had also occurred to him that she had considered him some kind of criminal- which he was, and he had given her every reason to think so- but she thought he was a simple hired gun, or something similar, which he was far from. He was _much _worse, not that he wanted her to head in that direction. Only time would tell whether or not it would take root, but in telling her about his past- specifically the bit of information about his father- he had planted seeds of legitimacy about his job, which would likely come in handy later. Killing was killing, but he knew that Lisa needed that bit of morality, and he was content to let her think it was there.

It hadn't taken him long to realize that threatening her into submission wouldn't work this time- not that it had before. He had to be creative, which he didn't mind in the slightest. It wasn't a simple seduction- Lisa was far too clever for that. After that first night, his plan had evolved more than slightly. He now had the task of winning her over. When he had presented it to his superiors, they doubted him, but he had made his case well. He may be the last person Lisa would trust, but he also knew that if anyone could turn her, it was him, largely for that same reason. Her dislike for him was wild enough that he received her undivided attention.

Lisa was desperate. It was disgustingly obvious. She was also ignored. These were the issues he had to deal with- he had to listen to her rambling, give her attention, and then take it away. Give away enough truth to distract her from the questions he wasn't answering. Keep her guessing as to his motives, keep her analyzing- for now, at least- because it made her think. It made her _question_. And doubt was his best friend, in this phase at least.

To aid the process, Jackson had suddenly formed a new plan- a very specific plan that would further that growth. He needed her flustered, to get out of the car too distracted to pay attention to her surroundings. So he had thrown out one of the qualities he hated the most- vulnerability. He hated it even more than usual because it wasn't a false vulnerability- it was the truth.

Well, the statements were true, but remorse wasn't. He had learned too much from that job to regret it. It was in those pre-dawn hours that he had learned exactly what could happen when an associate allowed himself to care about his mark. And he had never- and would never- make that mistake again. He wouldn't let himself fall again- she was just a job, just like all the rest. He just had to read her- objectively- and react.

And sure enough, Jackson had to hide a smile when Lisa's cheeks flushed and she quickly exited the car, mumbling something not calling her Leese anymore. She just couldn't handle the idea of him having a heart, could she? But Jackson wasn't offended- in fact, he had been hoping for a similar reaction. All he cared was that she left her purse on the floor mat.

With a quick glance to make sure she wasn't looking, Jackson swiftly shoved the bag under the seat. Now, all he had to do was keep her distracted until he had dropped her off without realizing she was leaving it behind.

Lisa crossed her arms over her chest as she entered the restaurant- it was more of a bar, actually. It was nothing special- not even noteworthy, really. It wasn't classy, wasn't a hole...wasn't anything. She didn't know what she had expected, but this wasn't it.

She bit down on her bottom lip as she heard Jackson walk up behind her. _Get it together_, she reminded herself for the countless time. Why was she letting him get to her? Whether he was lying, telling the truth...it didn't _matter_. It just didn't. He was no one.

But that little confession...it shook her in a way that she couldn't quite define. She could stand there and give a million reasons as to why she shouldn't trust it- shouldn't trust him- but really, it had thrown her for quite the loop. When she had thought back on where Jackson might be, what he might be doing, how he might _be_- frequently at first, and then less and less as time progressed- remorseful had never made the list.

She had assumed that he was angry, possibly vengeful. Hell, it had surprised her when she hadn't seen a sign of him in those first few months. She had fully expected he would 'finish the job', as he had promised. And even at this moment, she still couldn't be quite sure what he had meant by that at the time. Kill her? But if he had wanted to simply do that...he had had more than one opportunity. And really, it had surprised her to see him lose his composure so drastically. Surely, he _must_ have had someone attempt to thwart his efforts before. But despite what he had just said, he had taken it so _personally_. Two years had left her with plenty of time to replay the few hours they had spent together, and unfortunately, to come up with more questions than answers.

And now, the man with the answers stood next to her, but she definitely wasn't going to ask. She told herself that she didn't care to know anymore, but maybe she didn't want to, either. She didn't want to hear him try to justify what he had done, or defend it, or worst of all- as she had come to realize- regret it.

While he should regret it, Lisa didn't _want_ him to. It made it harder to hold it against him...she had always believed that people could change for the better if they chose, but that had gone away after the flight. Some people were missing key pieces of their humanity. And Jackson just wasn't human, didn't have feelings. It was easier that way.

She had no idea what his deal was, what his intentions were, and she knew that she couldn't get an answer that she could trust. That left her with two options- try to figure it out herself, or drop it. And she knew she had to go with the latter. She had to end this weird dance between them, and keep an eye out for his tricks. She had already gotten over those traces of fear. If he wanted to kill her, he'd kill her. No, he definitely wanted something else. That was one thing she could claim with almost absolute certainty- if he didn't have a use for her, he would have either...disposed of her already, or continued to stay away. She was less sure that she didn't really care what that use was.

"So what?" she finally asked after they had found a table to sit at and ordered drinks, raising her voice to talk over the band. Jackson didn't look up from the menu, but she saw a slight shift in his features, and knew he was listening to her. "That doesn't change anything."

Jackson let out another small laugh. "You asked a question, and I answered it," he reminded her, glancing up, and even in the dim light, Lisa recognized the familiar patronizing in his eyes.

"And I'm telling you it doesn't change anything," she replied firmly, matching his smile.

"Why Lisa," he countered, feigning hurt. "I thought we had a clean slate."

Lisa shook her head, glancing down at the menu. "And I thought southern boys were supposed to be gentlemen," she pointed out.

"I _am_," he replied, folding his menu and setting it on the table. "I bought you a drink, I helped with your bag, and I got you an aspirin."

Lisa couldn't help but glance up again, amused and somewhat started by the strong drawl that was now in his voice. And slightly aroused- naturally, she had always had a thing for southern boys. "And then you tried to strangle me," she reminded him, gladly falling back into the playfulness of before. It came surprisingly easily, probably because she found that she didn't really have to think about it.

"_But_ I didn't kill you," he pointed out matter-of-factly, as though this were some kind of debate. "How is that not gentlemanly?"

Lisa shook her head. "How utterly thoughtless of me," she said in mock apology. The two paused their exchange to order their respective meals, and when Jackson's voice reverted back to his normal lilt as he spoke to the server, Lisa realized just how natural it sounded.

It was still uniquely silky in a way she didn't want to dwell on, and now that she really thought about it, it was lower than she had remembered- was that just time, or a result of what she had done to him? But the point was, she was actually impressed by how well he covered up what was probably his native accent. She would never have guessed. She couldn't help but wonder how much work it had taken.

She also couldn't help but smile condescendingly at the server, who wasn't even looking at her. The woman was really turning on the charm for Jackson, much like that woman on the plane, and like Lisa herself when they had first met. She recognized the look on his face, polite, but obviously not interested- and then came that glance. She looked back at him at the same time that his eyes darted to meet hers, and he gave her that glint as though they shared some private joke.

Lisa just scoffed as the server left them alone again. She couldn't care less who flirted with Jackson, or vice versa. She was more concerned with the fact that the server- Michelle?- would probably forget- or 'forget'- to tell the cook to leave off the mayo on her sandwich now.

The two remained silent for a few minutes, and Lisa's attention faded over to the band. She wasn't very familiar with blues, but she definitely didn't hate it. She was somewhat surprised to find that Jackson was a fan- he obviously knew the place, and that server had seemed to recognize him- but come to think of it, she wasn't sure what kind of music she imagined him listening to...maybe some kind of techno, like the movies. It was just another thing she hadn't really thought about.

When she saw Michelle(?) shoot another smile at Jackson, she chuckled again. "So," she began, taking a sip from her vodka cranberry as she turned back to him, "do you see yourself as some kind of James Bond? Taking out the bad guys, saving the world, and bedding all the ladies along the way? Making them all fall in love with you?"

Jackson leaned back in his seat, rocking his glass of whiskey on the tabletop, his eyebrows raised. "I wish," he replied, scratching his jaw. "The job would be infinitely easier- and more interesting- if I could shoot cyanide darts from my wrist and had a grenade pen." He paused, thinking. "And if I had a reason to use them. I already told you- they've kept me mostly legit. I run recon now- support, information gathering."

Lisa crossed one leg over the other, running her finger along the rim of her glass. "So you're just a bitch now," she shot back with a grin, intentionally using cruder words than she normally would. "Why _Jackson_...are you someone's _dog_?"

Something in his eyes changed, an almost defiant spark, but he quickly covered it up with a smile. "Did I hear incorrectly, or did you just tell me you're in love with me?" he taunted, changing the subject.

Lisa let out a laugh, completely amused now- both at the very idea of falling in love with him, and the fact that she had obviously struck a nerve. "Didn't _you_ tell me that _you_ are?" she shot back, referring to their previous conversation and keeping him the center of attention. "If it was personal, things would have gone differently...?" She leaned forward, forcing herself to attempt to remain stone-faced. It was a little trick she had picked up from him, one that he seemed to be having a hard time remembering himself at the moment. "Is that what this is about?"

She didn't really believe that he was there because of some kind of romantic feelings for her, but in a weird way, she wanted it to be true. She wanted to make him squirm. And...it could be true. Maybe. It definitely seemed more appealing than some revenge plot, anyway.

But her timing was either rotten, or Jackson was a lucky son of a bitch, because the mood was severed in half by the server returning with their food. The question was still hanging in the air, but it might as well not exist at all for how quickly the tension had dissipated. And there was mayo on her sandwich.

Grimacing in distaste, Lisa slid the bun along the edge of her plate, scraping off the mayonnaise. She didn't hate it- just didn't like the taste of it in that much excess. She looked up again to see Jackson watching her with barely-contained laughter.

"You could just send it back, you know," he reminded her. "Or would that be too bold for you?"

Lisa shrugged, playing off his dig. "It's not a big deal," she replied. "I don't want to wait for another one, and I don't want a sandwich full of resentment. It's like...bad vibe chicken." She took a bite, pleased to find that the chicken itself wasn't too dry, and looked up again to see Jackson looking surprised. "What?" she asked, taking another bite.

Jackson shook his head, quickly collecting himself taking a bite of his reuben. "Nothing," he replied, seemingly dismissing his own thought, but then continued after a pause. "My sister says something similar...she calls it 'fuck you food'." He chuckled softly. "You're both insane." Lisa opened her mouth to respond, but Jackson interrupted her before she even started. "I know the reasoning behind it," he assured her, taking another bite. "And I don't love you."

Lisa set down her sandwich, caught off-guard by the blunt words shrouded in an easy tone. She had almost missed them, actually- he just wove it into his previous statement. "Then why _are_ you here?" she asked, deciding that despite what she had previously told herself, she did need an answer. She doubted he would tell her point blank, but she was curious to see what kind of maybe half-true tale he would spin. And if he was actually honest...great. Maybe.

Jackson let out a half-laugh, taking a drink of whiskey. "Alright," he finally said, clasping his palms together and pressing his face into the small gap before sliding them down his chin. "Mostly curiosity." He leaned back in his chair, studying Lisa intently. "I have had quite a bit of time to reflect on what happened last time- as I'm sure you have- and I came to the conclusion that I chose the wrong woman- which I already said." He took another drink, and Lisa crossed her arms, waiting for him to get to the point. Something in his tone was familiar to her, but she couldn't place it.

"I thought you were too strong, but-" His eyes narrowed somewhat, and Lisa tightened her grip. No matter how confident she tried to be, there was something in his piercing stare that had always made her uncomfortable. "That's not true, is it?"

He paused, seeming to wait for some kind of response, but Lisa only stared. She had no idea what he was getting at. She also didn't know why he sounded so accusing- she had never claimed to be some Wonder Woman. Plus, she couldn't really care less what Jackson thought about how strong or weak she was.

"Like I said, I saw your engagement photo," he continued after realizing that she wasn't going to reply. "And it intrigued me- I should have known where you have been all this time, but to be honest, I haven't paid much attention to the ongoings of the elite."

Lisa narrowed her eyes, her frame tensing. She definitely didn't like the sound of _that_. 'I should have known where you have been all this time'? _That_ wasn't ominous, not at all.

"So I followed you around. I saw that same insipid, empty smile, and I wondered..." He leaned forward, bracing his forearms on the table. "What could possibly make such a strong woman revert to a miserable, hollow shell?"

Lisa set her jaw and placed her palms on the table, attempting to push her chair back and just leave. She may have had to sit there and listen to him give a half-assed analysis of her personality back on that plane, but she definitely didn't this time. He didn't know anything. She didn't even care anymore that he knew he had gotten to her- she just couldn't stand the idea that he thought he knew her.

But Jackson was faster, grabbing her forearm tightly and pressing it down to the table. "No," he hissed, leaning further in. "You want to play, Lisa? You have absolutely no idea what you're doing. Maybe the woman I thought you were could, but _you_?" He scoffed, his lips curling into a sneer, and Lisa pulled at his grip, wanting so badly to slap him that arrogant expression off his face.

"I was wrong," he continued, his fingers digging into her arm. "The strength I saw? _That_ was the anomaly." His stare continued, unwavering, as his smirk faded. "Pathetic," he finished, his voice rock steady as he repeated the word she had spat in his face two years ago. And with that, he released her arm, throwing it roughly at her chest as he swiftly got to his feet, pulling a stack of bills from his wallet and tossing them on the table. "And you can take a cab."

Jackson quickly turned away from the angered woman, striding toward the door. He _hated_ monologues, and hated the drama of 'reveal and run' even more, but it served his purpose in this instance. A flood of words to _really_ get her blood boiling, and mostly the harsh truth- and he knew she knew it. Coming from him, though, it _had_ to get her mind especially reeling in distaste.

He needed to get her angry again. He needed her to remember the rush of adrenaline that came from spitting a firm _fuck you_ into the face of someone who really deserved it, whether with words or actions. It was the start, and then it could evolve into something more controlled and less instinctive. And for the time being, he was completely willing to bear the brunt of her anger if it meant rekindling that spark again.

Jackson wasn't worried about pushing her too far. Telling her that distasteful truth, to her face no less, would pull in a woman like Lisa. She was surrounded by people who were content to believe her shallow lies, and he suspected that there was a _real_ woman buried inside who was desperate to be heard, to be seen, flaws and all. He had seen it back at his condo- he had serious doubts that she screamed until she was hoarse for that blissfully ignorant fiancé. And then again tonight- he _knew_ she didn't snap at her insecure father when he unintentionally guilted her into assuring him that she was doing fine, leaving her feeling as though she couldn't tell the truth. She placated him, placated all of them. She didn't fight any of them like she did him.

Jackson had seen it in her eyes, the same spark he knew could glisten in his own- she enjoyed it. And she could enjoy it so much more if she let go of her inhibitions.

Above all, he knew there was no way in hell she would let him get away with what he had just said to her. He was counting on it.

Sure enough, just as he was approaching his car, he heard her quick footfalls behind him, and he turned in time to reflexively catch her hands in his as she attempted to shove him. He fought his initial urge to push her back, holding her in place instead.

"You don't know me," she snapped at him, pulling at his grip again. "You're not some..." She sighed in frustration, obviously having come after him without any idea of what she wanted to say. "So what if you followed me? You think that makes you some expert?"

Jackson smiled at the irony. Following her obviously didn't make him an expert on her- her behavior on the flight had proved that beyond a doubt. No, he only knew what little he did because he saw something familiar in her, not that he would tell her that yet- or ever, if he could help it.

"Well, maybe I do try to make people happy more than I worry about myself," she continued. "What's wrong with that? It's better than walking around like an arrogant asshole who only cares about himself and uses people." Jackson scoffed softly- this meant nothing to him. Even if her analysis weren't mostly true, she was the topic at hand, not him. "At least _he_ doesn't manipulate me."

Jackson raised both eyebrows. _That_ was out of left field. And he had never implied such a thing. That meant..._Oh, Leese...you **know**._

"What were those boxes?" he asked, assuming she would know what he was talking about. He had seen the look in her eyes when he had pointed them out earlier. He knew damn well they weren't trash. He didn't know exactly what they were, but he had a few guesses. That same sadness flashed across Lisa's eyes, but she didn't reply, and Jackson pressed on. "And the Prada? The Burberry and the Balenciaga?" He lowered his head, his lips barely grazing her ear. "The Agent Provocateur?" he whispered, implying that he had seen her in lingerie more than once. "I don't remember you being a vapid fashion plate before you met him, Lisa." He smiled sadly, actually taking pity on her. She _knew_. She had to know, or she never would have said it.

Lisa was still restrained by her hands, but she threw her body against his, sending him back against his car. "He doesn't..." she began, and Jackson saw the flush in her cheeks caused by his close proximity. Whether she wanted to admit it or not, she enjoyed even this. "I dressed well before him."

Jackson nodded. "You did," he agreed, and used his grip on her hands to pull her closer. "For work." He glanced down at the bumblebee t-shirt he had chosen for her from the back of her closet. "How long has it been since you wore that?" he asked, and then raised his gaze to meet her flashing eyes again. "I'm assuming it doesn't fit your new job description, does it?"

He couldn't even gloat when he saw his attack hit its target. He could see in her breaking eyes, the slight sag in her posture, that somewhere deep inside, she already knew what he was talking about. He released her hands, hoping she wouldn't use the chance to run. "The key to manipulation is that your victim can't know they're being manipulated," he told her, using the distraction to allow the two bills he had slipped in the cuff of his sweater to slide into his palm unnoticed. "Trust me," he added, sticking both hands into her front jeans pockets and pulling her closer, disguising the fact that he was slipping her cab fare as just another instance of disrespecting her personal space. He forced himself to remain cold, ignored that urge to fix the sadness in her eyes. He couldn't afford sympathy- he needed to push her _further_.

But...not tonight. He couldn't lay it all down yet, or she would just resist. It was a delicate process, and really, he might have gone too far already. But there was something buried deep in _him_ that was bitter. He might not want her for himself, but she obviously deserved better than the life she had resigned herself to.

"He's not..." Lisa trailed off as her gaze lowered, subconsciously leaning closer to him as she shivered. Jackson shook his head, bringing his hands up again over the cold skin on her arms in an attempt to warm her up. "He loves me- and I love him. He won't hurt me like-" She cut herself off, lifting her head again, pulling from his grip. "Go to hell," she snapped firmly, defiant again.

Jackson nodded, his eyebrows furrowing. He knew this was when he should have come back with something biting and end the conversation, leaving those seeds he had planted to grow in her mind. But her last line- before she had remembered who she was talking to- had struck something in him, thrown him off his game.

"Don't forget to get your coat," he replied, turning to grab the car door.

"I don't want to see you ever again." Jackson couldn't help but roll his eyes at the cold voice behind him. But he would play along. He'd let her run her little scripted 'good girl' scene, play the villain, and let her be on her way. He had already said more than what he came to say, anyway.

"You're being dramatic, Lisa," he replied, his eyes focused straight ahead. "You don't have to break up with me- we're just fucking. Well..." He smirked, turning to face her. "...just fucked." Lisa narrowed her eyes.

"And that's over," she insisted. "And if you do keep following me, I'll call the cops." Jackson ran a hand through his hair, chuckling softly as he glanced down at the ground. They both knew her threats were hollow. They both knew that she knew better than that.

"No worries," he retorted. "Like I said...we're done. I got what I wanted." He lifted his chin again, eyeing her. "Did you?"

She crossed her arms, and Jackson saw the familiar sight of hurt being pushed back into submission. "I guess," she replied, obviously choosing the words carefully. Jackson scoffed, crossing his arms across his chest. She was adorable sometimes. Really.

"If that's what you sound like when you're somewhat content, I pity your neighbors when you _really_ get going. If you ever do." He glanced at her, knowing his taunt was hitting its mark perfectly. It had absolutely nothing to do with the sounds she had made during sex, or even her, really- it was a slight against Brad. She read him so well sometimes.

He saw the anger rising in her again, and knew it was definitely his cue to exit the conversation. And so, he shot her a wink, acknowledging that they understood each other. "See you around," he remarked, giving himself a second to catch the initial excitement in her face before turning around again and quickly getting into his car. They both knew this wasn't over.

Without even giving himself time to look back, Jackson drove out of the parking lot, feeling a slight remorse nagging at him. Regardless of what Lisa may think, he was still human, and he did feel like something of a prick for abandoning her with no way to get back into her apartment. And he could only hope she found the money he had slipped in her pocket to pay for her cab.

Jackson shrugged, dismissing his concerns. Lisa was resourceful- she'd figure it out. He was sure she still had her phone- she kept it in her coat, not her purse. So...she would be fine.

If he were feeling like being honest, though, he would admit that the cab fare and her keys had absolutely nothing to do with his guilt. _He won't hurt me like **you**_. She had never had to finish that sentence- he had known exactly where it was going.

He hadn't been lying when he had mentioned wondering what made a strong woman like Lisa go back to what she had been. Somehow, it hadn't occurred to him that it was because of him. It really should have, but somehow...he had thought- maybe hoped- that she had been able to overcome what had happened. The idea of Lisa- _knowing_ she was being molded into someone she just wasn't- willingly chose a life with Brad Wellmont because of what he had done...well, it disgusted him, as it should- it was fucking weak. But it also made him feel guilty.

Jackson sighed heavily, lighting a cigarette. He knew the perception of Lisa. He had lived among a similar set- thankfully had mostly absented himself from such a shallow world- and he knew their ways. To them, Lisa's heroics, and her actually impressive work background, were irrelevant. She was a gold digger. He couldn't be sure if Brad saw her as such, but he could be confident that his peers did.

In the little time he had spent watching her again, and from the interactions with her, it was obvious to Jackson that despite how it appeared, Lisa was definitely _not_ with Brad for the money. If she were, she would happily do whatever he wanted, gladly transform herself into that perfect little accessory. Which was a shame, really- Lisa had the potential to be more of a partner in a power couple than arm candy. She wasn't meant to give an empty smile and nod along. She had spirit, drive- even if she was content to pretend that she didn't, Jackson had a feeling it was only a matter of time before she felt too trapped to ignore it anymore. And hopefully that moment coincided with his desperate need for it.

The point was that Lisa had other reasons for being with him. Jackson had considered that maybe she _did_ love him, even if he hadn't been able to see it, but it was now occurring to him that it was as simple as the worst Brad would ever do to Lisa was put her in a nice dress and subconsciously coerce her into locking her brain away in a box. There were worse things, more perverse violations.

And yes, Jackson had committed them, but that wasn't the point. Yes, he felt guilty that his actions had driven her back into her defenses, even though he knew it was her choice. But he could handle guilt.

The point was that Lisa was changing his job again, forcing him to have a dual- triple?- mission. Well...not an entirely new goal, really. It wasn't enough to light that fire in her again. He also had to make her see that being open to risk, open to hurt, wasn't as terrifying as her experiences had shown it to be. The work he had already done was worthless if he couldn't accomplish that. _Him_- the very person who while being the one who had drawn her out in the first place, had also been the catalyst for an even harder turn into the disgusting world of _safe_.

And how the _fuck_ was he supposed to do that?


End file.
